


home is a lonely place without you

by horde_princess



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/F, Slow Burn, mentions of child abuse and alcohol/drug abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2019-10-08 23:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17395934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horde_princess/pseuds/horde_princess
Summary: It was the summer after high school. Catra and Adora were two oblivious idiots who played in a local, Myspace-era pop punk band and dreamed of making it big together one day, but life had other plans. Four years and two broken hearts later, it seems like fate may have given them a second chance.





	1. Falling faster than we can fly

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on tumblr @horde-princess

_**\- July 2005 -** _

 

Catra punched a button on the dashboard and the chorus to  _Sugar, We’re Going Down_  started playing, speakers crackling from decades of misuse. The song was starting to feel overplayed, but it was better than anything else on the radio right now. She smiled when she heard Adora singing along in the passenger seat.

“Ugh, turn this commercial shit off!” Lonnie groaned from the back.

Catra spun the volume dial to the right, effectively ending that discussion.

Cruising down Colorado Interstate 70, music blasting, sun setting over the mountains, wind rushing through her hair, and heart beating recklessly for the girl sitting beside her, Catra had never felt more alive. This was the band’s last gig of the summer, and it sort of marked the end of an era. With high school behind them now, everyone would be going in different directions. Lonnie was starting work full-time, Scorpia would be spending a year volunteering. Entrapta was leaving Denver behind for UCLA. And Catra, well, she was just a couple of weeks away from starting a brand new life with Adora, and it was all she had ever wanted.

It’s something that they had been dreaming about together since they were kids: attending music college together, moving out to Los Angeles after graduation, and making it big in the city. The two of them against the world. Catra hated school--she would’ve much rather moved to L.A. straight out of high school--but she didn’t mind suffering through a few years of study for her best friend’s sake. Adora liked to play things by the book, especially with her father pushing her to attend college.

Besides, Catra figured it would be a good thing for both of them. A music degree would give them an edge in the industry, and it would probably teach them _something_ useful. But with the band’s talent, and the songs Catra and Adora wrote together--passion and wit flowing in every line—she knew they didn’t need professional training to be successful. Music was all about the heart. Reaching people, building communities. Things no textbook would teach them, that’s for sure.

Through her daydreaming, Catra became vaguely aware of jeers of protest coming from her bandmates and she turned the radio off when she realized Nickelback was playing. Night had fallen as she was driving and, through the darkness, she saw a bright, neon green sign shining up ahead, the words _Fright Zone_ indicating they’d arrived at the venue. Catra pulled into the lot and shut the van off, but no one made any immediate move to get out. Instead, a reverent hush fell over the group. They sat together for a moment, just taking it in.

The Fright Zone was a small, worn down building which seemed to dissolve right into the sketchy atmosphere of this part of town. Pipes, gears, and fake machinery on the façade gave off a weird steampunk vibe, and through the venue’s only window Catra could make out silhouettes dancing with pulsing green stage lights. Music filtered out to them, a muffled, corroded sound.

To a passerby it might not look like much, but to Catra… it felt like home.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this,” she sighed, finally breaking the silence. “But I’m gonna miss this place.”

“Yeah,” Adora said as the others murmured agreement. “Our last time playing at the Fright Zone… Wow.”

They had spent god knows how many nights in this glorified karaoke bar together, first as a bunch of punk kids watching from the crowd, then later as punk teenagers playing on the stage. Catra felt like she had practically grown up here. It was her safe place when she had no where else to go.

“Come on guys, we’ll be back! When we're rich and famous we'll sell out the whole place,” Lonnie promised, trying to lighten the mood.

Entrapta was unconvinced. “You know the maximum capacity is only 70 people...”

“Whatever. It’d still be awesome.”

In the back, Scorpia started sniffling. Catra rolled her eyes at all of them. She felt Adora looking at her and the two of them shared a private, amused smile.

“Scorpia? You okay?” Adora asked.

In the rearview mirror, Scorpia wiped a hand across her cheek.

“I guess so. I just really love making music with you guys... I wish things didn’t have to change.”

Everyone was quiet in response, Adora unusually so. A few seconds passed and Catra felt obligated to reassure Scorpia before her gloom threatened to ruin their whole night.

“Hey, look, _nothing’s_ changing. At least not permanently! We’ve all just… gotta do our own thing for a while, you know? It’s only four years, and when we get back together, we’re going to take L.A. by _storm_. And there’ll be nothing to stop us! We’re gonna be _rockstars_ , guys.”

Entrapta and Lonnie stared at her with dumbfounded expressions.

“…What?”

Catra turned to Adora for help, but she was just looking at her softly, making heat rise to her cheeks. Scorpia, on the other hand, broke out in a huge smile.

“You really think so, Cat?”

“Fuck yeah! Now let’s _go,_ we’re on in an hour and we gotta practice that key change…”

With Catra’s direction, everyone shook off the melancholy of the looming break up and worked together to unpack the van. As she carried an amp into the building, a poster on the wall caught Catra’s eye. She paused to admire the bright colors and contrasting grotesque imagery that was Scorpia’s signature style.

 

**The Fright Zone Music Venue**

**Denver, Colorado**

**Friday July 29, 2005 @ 9pm**

**Headliners: Black Garnet**

**$5 at the door**

 

* * *

 

They only had time to play five songs because the cops interrupted their set with a noise complaint. Even so, Catra thought it might have been their best show yet. Her heart was pumping with adrenaline and she wiped sweat from her face, feeling the burn of the lights overhead and the incessant noise around them as the crowd shouted “one more song” over and over. But through all the sensation, she was hardly aware of anything except Adora.

Her confidence on stage, the way she commanded the crowd with her voice and her body… it was impossible to look away. Adora locked eyes with her and grinned, in a cocky way that told Catra she knew exactly what she was doing to her.

“I guess we should give them what they want,” she purred into the microphone.

Catra shivered as the energy of the show flowed between them and leaned down to crank up the gain on her amp. She picked through the notes of a familiar, dirty guitar riff, and the audience, packed together like sweaty sardines, erupted into cheers. She felt a surge of pride for the local success Black Garnet had found with the single. Lonnie came into the song with a strong drum beat, Scorpia with a bass rhythm, and Entrapta’s synth held it all together, all the parts working in perfect harmony. Catra lost herself in the music, not really listening to the drums but instead letting her hands be guided by Adora’s voice, Adora’s body swaying in time to the beat…

Invincible. That was the only word to describe it all.

 

* * *                  

 

They finished the encore and manned their merch table for a little while--making a total of $78--before deciding to pack up for the night. Not usually one to help with manual labor, Catra had wandered over to the bar, where she found herself in a flirty conversation with two college girls.

“So we were thinking about throwing a little after party, if you and Adora want to…come with...”

The girl--Kelsey? Kelly?--trailed off and Catra figured out why when she felt an arm wrap around her waist from behind.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Adora said, like silk in her ear.

Catra started, feeling warm at her sudden proximity and the hint of jealousy in her voice. She looked from the girls, to Adora, then back to the girls, and smirked.

“Actually--Ow! Adora!”

Adora yanked Catra by the collar and started dragging her away.

“Wait! They have a proposition--”

She let go and gave Catra a shove in the direction of the back door.

“Do you have to be an asshole _all_ the time?”

“No,” Catra chuckled. “Only when it pisses you off.”

Adora gave her a look that sent a thrill up her spine. They made it out to the van just as the others finished packing everything up.

“That? Was _awesome_ ,” Lonnie said as they walked over, giving Catra a high five.

“We were so in sync!” Entrapta exclaimed, while Scorpia scooped all four of them into a hug.

“I’m so proud of us, you guys! We finished the tour! It’s like we’re a real band, now.”

“We _are_ a real band,” Catra grumbled, trying to escape. “Can you let go of me?!”

Scorpia complied and Catra laughed despite herself, everyone's spirits running high.

“I wish this night would never end. Ooh, we should do something to celebrate!”

“It is a nice night…” Adora mused. “Maybe we could hang out at Lookout Mountain?”

“Isn’t the park closed?” Entrapta asked.

“...So?”

Everyone looked at each other. Catra ginned.

“Let’s do it.”

 

* * *

 

After about a twenty minute drive up a dark, winding road, they finally arrived at the lookout point inside the park. There were no gates or entrance fees so they drove in easily, half-expecting police sirens, but none came. It was a perfect summer night, the city lights below reflecting the vast expanse of stars above them. Catra couldn’t decide which were prettier, but then she snuck a glance at Adora standing next to her, and decided there was no contest after all.

It wasn’t like she had dressed up for the show. Ripped skinny jeans, converse, a black t-shirt half tucked in, hair in a messy ponytail. She wasn’t even wearing makeup, but...

Catra huffed, giving up on stargazing, and swung her legs back over the wood railing that she was sitting on.

“Thinking about me?”

Adora gave her a sidelong glance.

“You wish.”

Catra leapt off the rail to stand beside her. Acting casual, she grabbed one of Adora’s hands and laced their fingers together. Adora leaned into her side in response, biting her lip to stop a smile and making Catra melt in the process.

“Actually, I was thinking about... what comes after all this. When summer’s over.”

“Yeah… I know what you mean. It’s _so_ close.”

The two of them were getting ready to start fall semester at DIME--the Denver branch of the Detroit Institute of Music Education. They’d spend their weeks studying music and their weekends going camping, or hanging out downtown, or just watching movies in their tiny apartment together. That was one thing Catra couldn’t wait for--moving into her own place. Getting the fuck out of her mother’s house. Adora was always complaining about her dad going on business trips and leaving her alone a lot, and Catra sympathized, but she never really understood. Catra’s mother was the opposite--like a hypercritical, fun-sucking vortex who drank so much she probably wouldn’t even notice when Catra was gone (until she started looking for something to kick around).

Freedom was so close, she could almost taste it.

“Yeah,” Adora whispered. “Catra, there’s something I need to--”

A piercing scream came suddenly from the van, followed by raucous laughter.

“What the--?”

“God, Catra, I told you not give them your--”

“It wasn’t my idea!”

The two of them broke out laughing, letting go of each other’s hands.

“Maybe I should check on them… you cold?” Catra asked, noticing how Adora had immediately crossed her arms.

“Well, if _someone_ hadn’t sold my hoodie at our merch table--”

Catra snickered, provoking a light punch from Adora.

“Ah! Okay, okay, I’ll be right back.”

She jogged over to the van and, bracing herself, pulled the trunk open. She was immediately hit by a wave of pungent smoke and bad classic rock music.

“Ugh, Jesus,” Catra complained, suppressing a cough.

“Catraaa!”

Entrapta, Lonnie, and Scorpia were hotboxing the van with Catra’s last joint (which, if she was being honest, she had only given them as an excuse to be alone with Adora, who always scrunched her nose when offered a smoke). Catra blindly grabbed for her coat, then noticed that Entrapta was attempting to dissect her old acoustic guitar. An idea began to take shape in her mind and she swiped that, too.

“Hey!” Entrapta protested, before falling over in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

“Yeah, hilarious… Have fun, junkies.”

“Wait, this is _weed_?!” she heard Scorpia say before slamming the trunk shut.

_And stay there._

Strolling up to the cliffside, Catra offered her leather jacket to Adora, who accepted it gratefully. It was a little small on her but, the sight of Adora wearing her clothes… it made her stomach fill with butterflies. It wasn’t an unusual sensation, but there was something about this night that had Catra feeling particularly restless. Maybe a little bold.

She cleared her throat.

“Can I, uh, play you something I’ve been working on?”

“Duh! Of course,” Adora gasped. “Though I’m a little offended you’ve been writing songs without me.”

“Yeah, I think you’ve been holding me back,” Catra joked as she guided Adora over the fence with her. Her easy laughter sparkled through the night air, and it made Catra’s heart rate speed up. They sat down together, Catra dangling her feet over the cliff’s edge and Adora crossing her legs, both of them looking out at the illuminated landscape. Catra slung the guitar strap over her shoulder and worked on adjusting the tuning.

Well. There’s no turning back from this, Catra thought to herself.  It’s now or never. Catra had been pretty sure for a while now that her feelings for Adora were mutual, but they’d spent years in this will-they-won’t-they state, and she thought she might combust if she had to keep her emotions locked up any longer. She’d rather get rejected outright now than spend her college years pining after her best friend like a pathetic lovesick puppy.

That’s what she told herself, anyway.

And besides, it wasn’t like the song was _explicitly_ romantic... If things went bad she could just play it off as something she wrote for the band, right? Although, soft acoustic love songs weren’t really they’re brand--

Her eyes fell on Adora then and all her anxious thoughts evaporated. Adora was watching her, waiting patiently for Catra to begin playing; and, cast in the glow of the lights, she looked sort of angelic.

Catra swallowed. Before she could change her mind, she forced herself to start strumming. A sweet, nostalgic melody surrounded them, shielding the two of them from the rest of the world.

 

_Hey, Adora_

_Can’t you see that I adore ya?_

_Think I’d swim the ocean for ya_

_And back again_

 

Slowly, realization dawned on Adora’s face. She turned so still she was barely breathing, and the only thing giving Catra courage to keep going was the faint blush on her cheeks.

 

_Hey, Adora_

_There’s not much this world has for ya_

_Your eyes outshine the auroras_

_But trust me when_

_I say_

 

_These days are looking up_

_No matter where we are, we’ll have each other, that’s enough..._

 

_If I could give you heaven, I would_

_But as for me, I think I’ve found mine on Earth_

_Wish I could give you heaven_

_‘Cause I’ve already found mine here on Earth_

 

The last chord faded into the night...  And seconds ticked by in silence.

Catra burned with embarrassment now that it was over and couldn’t even bare to look and see Adora’s reaction. She laughed awkwardly.

“That’s, um, all I’ve got so far. Dorky, right?”

“...Catra,” Adora breathed, hesitating.

Impatient, Catra finally turned to face her. The blush on Adora’s cheeks had deepened, and she was smiling softly, so, that was a good sign… but she also kind of looked on the verge of tears.

That wasn’t _exactly_ the reaction Catra had been hoping for.

“Adora?”

She took in a shaky breath. Let it out. Took another breath.

“I should tell you something.”

...Oh. Well, fuck.

Maybe her feelings weren’t mutual, after all.

Catra mustered a reassuring smile for Adora, trying to pretend like everything was fine, like her world wasn’t threatening to fall apart--

“I--I got accepted to Berklee. Um. In Boston.”

Wait. What?

The words hung heavy in the air between them, then seemed to dissipate carelessly into the night, leaving behind an impassable void.

Catra laughed once without humor. “You… what?”

Adora just nodded.

Her head swirled from whiplash as she tried to make sense of what she was hearing. She looked again at Adora’s teary expression and saw there what she hadn’t before: not sadness, but guilt. Because why would she be telling her this news unless… unless she had already decided to accept.

“... _Berklee_ Berklee? Like, the big, pretentious, rich kid school where creativity goes to _die_? _That_ Berklee?”

“Yes, Catra!” Adora said defensively, but she deflated almost immediately.

“They took me off the waitlist a few days ago, and… I was shocked. It’s such an amazing school, I never really thought I’d get in.”

Catra stared at her, still in a state of disbelief.

“I didn’t even know you _applied_.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Catra noticed vacantly that she was gripping the neck of her guitar with enough strength to snap it off, but she couldn’t let go. Despite sitting on top of a mountain, she felt like she had just crashed at the bottom of one.

“Uh. Congratulations,” she choked out. She didn't trust herself to go beyond pleasantries.

“Catra--”

“What do you want me to say?!”

“I don’t know! That you’re happy for me?... I've worked _so_ hard for this.”

Catra scoffed in amazement. She thought Catra would be _happy_  she was preparing to move two thousand miles away from her? That she had been lying to her about it for who knows how long? That she was just going to throw away their dream, their life together, like it meant nothing--like an old CD that had one too many scratches?

“Of _course_ I’m happy for you! But what the hell, Adora?! You promised we were doing this _together_. So, what? DIME's not good enough for you anymore? Was it ever?"

(The words she held back: Am  _I_  not good enough for you?)

Adora reached a hand out to her, but she shook it off.

“Catra, please, I didn’t--I wasn’t _planning_ this, I just… I don’t know. I wanted to apply to a couple reach schools, just to see what would happen. I didn’t think I’d actually get this opportunity--”

“So you’re leaving me,” Catra summarized flatly. She just needed to hear her say it.

“I… It’s not like I _want_ to--”

Unable to contain the emotions rising in her, Catra jumped to her feet. She climbed over the railing and started back towards the van, suddenly wishing to be anywhere but here.

“Come on, Catra,” Adora called out, following her over the fence. “Maybe you could come with me!”

Catra smiled to herself resentfully--she knew Adora well enough to recognize when she was bullshitting someone. She rounded on her in anger.

“Are you kidding me? What the fuck would I do in Boston?”

Adora held out her hands, placating. “I don’t know…” A blush rose to her cheeks. “Hang out with me?”

Her expression was so vulnerable, the invitation so tantalizing, that it made Catra almost want to reconsider. But… she couldn’t be serious. Boston’s music scene was worse than Denver’s. Catra would end up working some shitty minimum wage job, standing on the sidelines as Adora made new friends and found her own success without her. Catra would never resign herself to that, no matter what stupid cliches she had written in that long-forgotten song. No one could actually swim across an entire ocean. They'd drown if the sharks didn't find them first.

Besides, if Adora really did care about her… how could she want to leave her in the first place? Was her career really more important to her than their relationship? Didn’t Adora get how much Catra’s life _revolved around her_ ? She hung out with _her_ friends, she played in _her_ band, she was going to college for _her_. They had planned their whole future out together. And Catra’s L.A. dream… it meant nothing without Adora.

She considered the lyrics that expressed how she thought Adora deserved the world and more. How she only wished that she could give it to her (because, let’s face it, the only thing Catra had to give anyone was grief). Despite Adora's promises, there was always a fear nagging in the back of her mind, that one day her friend might wish to experience the world even if it meant leaving her behind. Yet... the way Adora had looked at her during the song… it was almost like she _wanted_ Catra, wanted her in her life, despite everything. It gave Catra hope.

Then she just... ripped it all to pieces.

Catra dismissed Adora’s feelings with a cruel laugh. “You really expected me to just drop everything and move across the country for you? Damn, Adora, it’s not like we’re girlfriends or something.”

The moment the words left her mouth, Catra wished she could take them back. But, fuck, she couldn’t. Not without humiliating herself even further than she already had tonight. Adora, for her part, looked like she’d just been struck, but Catra kept her furious glare steady until Adora’s expression transformed to match her own.

“You know what? You’re right.”

She analyzed Catra for a moment, then shook her head, smiling bitterly. “I don’t even know why I thought you’d understand. You’ve been holding me back this whole time... I _tried_ to get you to take school seriously, Catra, but you just wanted to party and smoke your problems away! And now you’re pissed because I’m actually _doing something_ with my life?”

In a split second, Catra felt all of the radiant colors that existed in her heart for Adora turn pitch black.

“ _I_ was holding _you_ back?!” she exploded, hands balling into fists. “If it weren’t for you dragging me to DIME, Black Garnet could be selling out shows in L.A. right now! But no, daddy’s little princess is too good for that, right? ...God, I should’ve seen this coming. The way you act all high and mighty like you’re the leader of this band--you _always_ thought you were too good for us. It was such a mistake making you the frontman when my vocals are _just_ as good and _I don’t fucking abandon my friends_!”

Shit. She didn’t know where that list of accusations came from. She just started shouting and couldn’t stop.

Adora backed up, at a momentary loss for words.

Behind them, Catra vaguely recognized the sound of a van door sliding open.

“Oooookay, guys. What is going on?”

“We’re _leaving_.” Catra snapped at Scorpia without turning around.

Adora shoved past her and started towards the van. In her head, Catra counted to five, then turned and followed, while Scorpia watched her approach with her jaw hanging open.

Catra heard someone mutter “I’m too high for this” as she opened the driver’s side door, but she ignored it. After that, no one said a word the entire ride home.

 

* * *

 

It took about an hour to drop everyone off, giving them both some time to cool off. Adora was the last. She pulled into Adora’s driveway and saw the lights in the house were off, her father’s car gone, as usual.  It sent a pang through her because, under any other circumstances, Adora would invite her to come in. They’d stay up late doing homework, writing songs, playing Xbox, and lying in bed talking until one of them passed out at 2:00am.

But that wouldn’t happen tonight. Maybe not ever again.

Catra put the van in park and they sat together in silence for a while, until Adora finally spoke.

“Please don’t say anything before I can talk to everyone.”

Catra acknowledged the request numbly. Both of her hands had a vice grip on the steering wheel.

“When are you leaving?”

In her peripheral vision she saw Adora turn her head towards her, but she kept her eyes locked on the house.

“August fifteenth.”

Catra didn’t know what to do with that information. She wasn’t sure why she asked. She’d probably just mope around for the next two weeks, counting down the hours until Adora left. Until she no longer lived down the street from Catra, would no longer be there for her as a refuge, or a friend, or anything else--

“Some of your shit’s at my place, so. I’ll drop it off before then.”

“Thanks,” Adora said, barely audible.

A beat.

“Catra, I--”

“ _Just!--_ ” she interrupted angrily, but forced herself to stay calm. “...Don’t _._ ”

There was absolutely nothing she could say right now that would make this better. Thankfully, Adora seemed to respect her wishes, giving up on conversation. She got out of the van and the passenger door slammed shut with an air of finality. But before she left, Adora leaned into the open window.

“...Thank you. For the song. It, um. It meant a lot to me.”

Her words made Catra’s blood boil--whether in rage, humiliation, heartbreak, she didn’t really know.

“Bye, Adora.”

She sat with her hands on the wheel, refusing to look at her until, finally, Adora gave up and walked away.

When Catra got home, she found her mother passed out on the couch. Empty wine bottles sat on the coffee table, along with some scattered pills of--what was it this time? Valium? Percocet? Whatever. She counted her blessings and carefully snuck up the stairs to her bedroom, muffling her crying in a pillow until, eventually, she fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

_\- Adora's Perspective -_

 

Adora checked her phone (for the millionth time that day) and sighed when she saw texts from basically every person in Colorado, with one glaring exception. Adora had set aside her dignity at this point, leaving texts, voicemails, even staking out her front porch until Catra’s mom threatened to call the cops. But… nothing. No response. It was like Catra was hellbent on completely ignoring her existence. Adora groaned and threw her phone at the wall in frustration (then immediately went to check if it was broken).

She had gone over their fight in her head again and again and there was still so much she didn’t understand. Catra was angry that she was leaving--okay, that was fair. Adora was angry at _herself_ for leaving. But how could she ask Adora to give up her career aspirations and the opportunity of a _lifetime_ , on the off chance that their little garage band would make it big someday? What kind of a friend does that?

Besides, she never wanted to _abandon_ Black Garnet--in fact, once she had a degree from Berklee, she could still contribute to the band, help them get signed, and then they’d actually have a shot at _real_ success! Catra’s accusations were just so unfair and immature and--

Adora took a deep breath. She finished taping up a moving box and checked her phone one last time.

_11:08am: catra i know ur getting my messages_

_11:12am: i really am sorry for what i said_

_1:47pm: do u wanna hang out tomorrow before i leave?_

The current time read 6:30pm. Adora glared at the unanswered messages, a sinking feeling in her gut that Catra had blocked her number. Then again, maybe not. Maybe she just needed some space before she was ready to talk.

...Two thousand miles of it.

Adora had tried to be patient and respect her boundaries, but... she had just really hoped to see her at least one more time before she left. She missed her--a lot--and leaving things as they were now just felt kind of terrible. Okay, _really_ terrible.

Adora turned the volume on her phone all the way up and shoved it in her pocket before heading downstairs with the packed box. The house was quiet and there was a note on the kitchen counter, along with a twenty dollar bill.

 

_Got called away to a last minute conference. Sorry I won’t be there to see you off. Dinner’s on me._

 

_Love,_

_Dad_

 

Adora rolled her eyes, expecting nothing less. She carried the box out to the moving truck and packed it into the back, along with her other belongings. Walking back up the porch, she noticed an unfamiliar box sitting next to the door.

Her breath caught in her throat when she remembered--

_“Some of your shit’s at my place, So. I’ll drop it off before then.”_

Adora’s head whipped around and she scanned the cul-de-sac for any sign of Catra, even though Adora knew she was long gone by now. There was only the box. She resisted the irrational urge to smash it with her foot and instead knelt down, tearing it open there on the porch and sorting through the contents warily.

There were some cd’s, books, clothing… things of little importance, mostly, and it made Adora start to panic for some reason. She ran her fingers over the cover of one of the journals, their old songbook, actually, that held years of memories between them. Photos of the band and the two of them were scattered in the bottom of the box (one of which, Adora noted with some annoyance, had a satanic cartoon drawn over her face).

The last thing was a folded note.

Adora opened it quickly, hope blooming in her chest, but when she read what was inside her heart skipped a painful beat.

 

_Stop calling me_

 

“.... _W_ _hat_? That’s _it_?” she demanded aloud.

Adora wanted to scream. She didn’t know why, but she realized latently that she had expected something a little more meaningful from Catra. A letter, maybe, or a going away gift, or--she didn’t know, a fucking mixtape? _Something_.

She couldn’t believe this was happening. It didn’t feel real. How had Catra gone from holding her hand and writing cheesy songs about her one day, to apparently cutting her out of her life the next? All because they were going to be apart for a few years--as if something as stupid as distance could possibly change the way she felt about--

This time she _did_ kick the box, knocking it over and spilling the contents across the porch.

“What the _fuck_!”

 

* * * 

 

The next day, Adora was on a plane heading to Boston.

She had spent most of the flight staring numbly out the window and listening to the same six songs on her iPod Touch over and over again. Adora had never been able to convince Catra to sing lead vocals for the band, but she had recorded a few personal songs that Adora liked to listen to when she felt alone.

Exhausted by guilt and heartache, she selfishly allowed Catra’s voice to soothe away her anxiety about what the future held in store for her. But as she saw the Boston city skyline approaching through the window, she made a promise to herself that she would not regret her decision, no matter what. That she would leave the past in the past, if that was truly where it wanted to stay.

Adora blinked down at her iPod and scrolled to a different artist.

 

* * *

  **Notes:**

(laura hollis voice) greetings gentle readers! so halfway through writing this chapter i picked up my guitar and wrote that Hey, Adora song in about 5 minutes and thought I'd post it here in case you guys want to hear the vibe i was going for with it :) sorry its a crappy iphone recording pls don't blast my music skills..... also the reason there's not a second verse is because i ran out of things to rhyme with adora (like, aura? fedora? microflora? idk man). anyways here u go

 


	2. Jersey just got colder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 1 summary: Catra planned on going to music college with Adora in Denver, but Adora secretly applied for a better school out in Boston. They had a fight and Catra cut her out of her life.

**_\- 4 Years Later - February 2009 -_ **

 

_Beeeep. Beeeep. Beeeep. Bee--_

Catra smashed her alarm clock with a fist, accidentally busting off its face.

“...Goddammit.”

How was it morning _already_? She had pressed snooze twice but still wasn’t ready to accept it. She blinked blearily until her eyes adjusted to the light streaming through the window, and heard some kind of weird eighties dance music coming from the living room that made her question her sanity.

Her roommate suddenly appeared in the doorway, dressed in sweaty gym clothes and leg warmers.

“Morning, Catra! I made muffins if you want any.”

Catra stared, mouth hanging open in annoyance. She wanted _something_ , alright, but it wasn’t a muffin. More like a shotgun.

“Thanks, Kyle.”

“Anytime!” he replied, bounding happily away.

Catra rolled over and groaned into her pillow.

No. No time for an existential crisis today. Her shift started in a half hour. She knew she was on her manager’s last nerve and really couldn’t afford to be late to work again.

Hauling herself out of bed, she stumbled over to the bathroom sink to wash her face, but instead ended up just staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror. Mouth turned down, black eyeliner smeared around a pair of cold, mismatched eyes, sunken cheekbones that reflected a diet consisting mainly of coffee and alcohol.

Jesus... She was starting to look like her mother.

She splashed some cool water in her face to wash off last night’s makeup as much as to cleanse that intrusive thought from her mind.

She got dressed quickly after searching through the pile of clothes on her floor for something that didn’t smell. Cautiously, she made her way to the living room, but it looked like Kyle had finished his work out and was back to being a normal person. There was a sweet aroma coming from the kitchen and--was that coffee?

Oh. Her travel mug was waiting for her on the table. She glanced around and realized the kid must have cleaned the apartment last night after Catra’s party, too (because she definitely hadn’t).

Okay, well. Maybe Kyle wasn’t the _worst_ roommate in the world. She should really try to be nicer to him. After all, it wasn’t his fault that his presence reminded her of someone else’s absence.

Catra’s phone buzzed but it was just a text from the girl from last night. She deleted her number, thanked Kyle for the coffee, grabbed her jacket and car keys, and headed off to the mall.

 

* * *

 

It was a quiet drive. Catra usually blasted the rock station on her way to work, but for some reason she just didn’t have it in her to be angry today. It was like all the rage had drained out of her, and there was nothing left. Just an empty shell. This always happened after one night stands--they left her feeling stupid and shitty. But it was a small price to pay for a few hours of company, a few hours of forgetting.

Well, not really forgetting. As close as it gets, though.

She made her way to the tiny alternative music shop where she had been working for the past two years. It wasn’t all that bad, as far as jobs go. In between dealing with idiot customers, she got to learn more about music, strengthen her own sound, meet cool people…  It was a hundred times better than sitting in a lecture hall, that was for sure. Catra had tried the whole college thing, she really had, but without Adora there she had no motivation to keep her grades up. She didn’t need a dumb piece of paper to qualify her to play music. But after living in the dorms, there was no way she could ever go back to her mother’s house; and, well, an apartment costs money, money requires a job, so... here she was.

Catra stopped in her tracks when she noticed a beautiful redhead standing in her usual place behind the cash register. In retrospect, she should’ve known that actually feeling positive about something in her life for once would jinx it.

“Hey there,” she smirked, eyes wandering over Catra. “If there’s _anything_ I can help you with, let me know.”

“Uh… where’s Mark?”

“ _Mark_?”

“In here,” someone called from the back of the store.

She winked at the girl and followed the voice into Mark’s office. He was sitting at his desk, papers scattered everywhere, a stressed look on his face.

“Hey boss, sorry I’m late. What’s with the new girl?”

“Catra,” he sighed impatiently. He set his pen down and lowered the glasses on the bridge of his nose, frowning up at her.

“Look, there’s no easy way to say this, but I did give you a warning, so…”

Don’t say it. _Please_ don’t say it.

“I’m letting you go.”

Shit.

Catra laughed once, half shocked, half resigned.

“What--you were serious about that?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” he scoffed, then smiled ruefully. “You’re never on time, you neglect the simplest tasks I give you, you’re writing songs when you’re supposed to be on the clock…”

Catra shook her head as he listed off the grievances, struggling to come up with a defense. She _needed_ this job--it was the only thing keeping her sane right now, honestly, and she had rent to pay, student loans--

“Come on, Mark, I’m just having a rough month. I swear, I’ll work harder, alright? Give me a break!”

“That’s just it! I am.”

Catra stared at him incredulously, and his expression softened towards her.

“I’m giving you a way out, kid. Take it. You don’t belong here, you know it and I know it. Working some dead end minimum wage job, selling music when you could be out there making it. You really wanna end up like me?”

Catra opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. He pushed a box on his desk towards her.

“Here. I took the liberty of packing up your stuff... Added a couple CD’s to educate ya, too. So _go_. Get out of here. Do us both a favor,” he chuckled.

Catra felt nearly on the verge of tears, pissed off and overwhelmed and also just, _happier_ than she had been in years. Because the more she thought about Mark’s words, the more she realized how true they were. Complacency was a slippery slope and at this rate her life was headed absolutely nowhere. Ironically, losing her job might have been the only thing that could save it.

“I don’t know what to say,” she confessed.

“‘Hey Mark, thanks for putting up with all my shit the past two years…’”

Catra laughed, genuinely. It was a somewhat unfamiliar sound. He stood up and shook her hand.

“Take care, Catra.”

“Yeah, you, too.”

She took the box and walked out of the office, out of the store, out of the mall, and out of the seemingly endless void of self pity she had been been drowning herself in for far too long. She got into her car and pulled out her cell phone. As the call rang, she dug through her console for a half-empty bag of weed, and tossed it out the window. 

“Scorpia, hey. It’s Catra--”

“ _Catra_ ?!” Scorpia squawked from the other line, making Catra wince and pull the phone back a little. “I don't believe it-- _you’re_ calling _me_?”

“Yeah, of course! Listen.” She grinned to herself. “What would you think about getting the band back together?”

Catra pulled the phone away completely and covered it with her hand as loud, unintelligible babbling erupted from the phone. When she thought it was safe again, Catra brought it back to ear. Scorpia was well into an animated monologue.

“...and I kept telling Lonnie to practice because I just _knew_ you’d figure something out! The negative nancy was all ‘what are we supposed to do without a singer?’ but I said--”

“We have a singer!” Catra asserted, slightly offended.

“...We do?”

She took a breath and eyed herself in the rearview mirror.

“Let’s just make sure everyone else is on board with this, first.”

 

_**- 9 Years Ago - October 2000 -** _

 

_Catra gazed up at Adora’s second-story bedroom window which was glowing with a faint light, like a beacon in the dark. Then she noticed her father’s cadillac sitting in the driveway and sighed. Guess she would have to do this the hard way._

_She snuck around the side of the house to where a small oak tree grew alongside the window and pulled herself up a low-hanging branch, climbing with practiced ease. When she was high enough, she sprawled lazily across one of the branches and tapped a fingernail against the glass._

_A couple of seconds passed before the curtains pulled back and Adora appeared, her face lighting up when she saw Catra. She smirked as Adora clumsily shoved the window open._

_“Hey, Adora.”_

_“Catra! You came!”_

_But then her smile fell and she darkened just as quickly. She reached out a hand to inspect Catra’s jaw--where a bruise was probably starting to form, she realized. Catra jerked away from her touch._

_“What did she--”_

_“Don’t worry! It’s fine,” Catra reassured her with a fake laugh. “I just came to see you.”_

_Adora looked skeptical, but she was smiling again and Catra took that as a victory. She helped Catra through the open window and immediately pulled her into a hug. Catra froze, not understanding why a wave of warmth had suddenly crashed over her, or why time had frozen still and she couldn’t breathe or think or--_

_“Wait here, I’ll get some ice,” Adora said. She let her go and Catra was left alone to recover her senses._

_Yeah. That was a new development._

_It had been happening on and off and getting worse every day--the racing heart, stomach swirling, feeling feverish. And it was_ addictive _. Like the more they were together, the less Catra wanted to be anywhere else. They had been best friends since they were kids, and she had never felt like this around Adora before, so… what gives?_

 _Ugh. She ran a hand through her hair and crossed her arms, feeling awkward. This wasn’t a place meant for her--Adora’s bedroom was so…_ safe _. There were purple walls and fairy lights and stuffed animals and books, so many books. Her eyes landed at last on Adora’s acoustic guitar sitting in the corner, which she never really practiced but often let Catra play around with. She walked over, picked it up, and settled with it on the floor against Adora’s bed. She was about to strum a G chord when she heard voices in the hallway, getting louder._

_“Adora? What are you doing?”_

_“Uh--Nothing! I mean, I just hurt my knee at practice today. The nurse told me to ice it.”_

_Adora’s father clicked his tongue. Catra sat very still, straining to hear their conversation._

_“I wish you’d give up that silly distraction and focus more on school, darling.”_

_Adora mumbled something, too quiet to hear. Her father sighed._

_“I suppose I only have myself to blame, for being so preoccupied at the firm… I’ve been too lax with you, Adora. Indulging your little hobbies and letting you run around with those miscreants you call friends, especially that Catra--”_

_“Dad!” Adora yelled angrily._

_Catra bristled at the mention of her name. She wasn’t sure what she had done to earn the man’s disapproval, but lately she had been allowed on their property much less frequently when he was home. She shouldn’t care, but she did. It hurt to know that Adora’s father didn’t approve of their friendship._

_“Please, I need to study. Goodnight.”_

_There was silence, then footsteps, then Adora threw open the door and slammed it shut again. Catra schooled her expression as she groaned and walked over to sit beside her. She offered her the bag of ice wordlessly. Catra took it and set it on the floor, along with the guitar, then put an arm around Adora and drew her into her side._

_Adora laughed breathily and nuzzled her face against Catra’s neck._

_“Thanks.”_

_“For what?”_

_“Being you,” Adora hummed._

_That didn’t really make sense to Catra, but she’d take it._

_They spent the rest of the night sitting on the floor together, Adora working on a history project while Catra practiced her guitar. Eventually, Adora looked up at her._

_“We should start a band,” she mused._

_Catra stopped playing._

_“Uh, Adora? I know like two songs.”_

_“And you’re so good already! Think about it--you on guitar, me on the mic, Lonnie’s taking drum lessons… why don’t we just, I don’t know, run away to L.A. or something. Forget this place.”_

_Catra laughed at her daydreaming and Adora threw an eraser at her._

_“Shut up, I’m serious! Do that song you were just playing.”_

_“What, this?”_

_Catra frowned in concentration and awkwardly strummed the intro to a recent Goo Goo Dolls song. It didn’t sound exactly right, but Adora caught on and started singing along._

_“I’d give up forever to touch you, ‘cause I know that you feel me somehow.”_

_She couldn’t deny that Adora had an incredible voice--magnetic, even. Catra focused and was able to harmonize with her through the rest of the verse. They actually sounded… pretty decent together._

_“You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be, and I don’t wanna go home right now. And all I can taste is this moment...”_

_They got to the end of the song and Catra regarded Adora pensively, considering._

_“L.A., huh?”_

_Adora smiled. “Why not?”_

 

_**\- Present Day - April 2009 -** _

 

Catra woke up in a cold sweat and bolted upright.

The dream… memory… nightmare was so vivid it was almost like she had been transported back in time. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and rubbed her face with both hands, wondering what the hell that was all about.

Wait--this wasn’t her bed. She looked up, trying to make out shapes and colors in the darkness. This wasn’t her room. Where was she?

She heard someone mumbling and looked over to see Entrapta asleep on an air mattress on the floor. Then it all came rushing back.

Oh. Right. She was in Los Angeles.

Surprisingly, everyone had agreed that it was about damn time Black Garnet got back together. She convinced Scorpia and Lonnie to fly out to UCLA with her and hook up with Entrapta, who had some fancy engineering job now but still seemed enthusiastic about their music. She was allowing the three of them to crash at her apartment for now.

Feeling unsettled by the dream as well as the unfamiliar space, Catra gave up on sleep and wandered out to the tiny balcony that overlooked part of the city. She slid the glass door closed behind her and leaned on the railing, breathing in the atmosphere of the city, the lights stretching out for miles, the crescent moon hanging high above her.

It wasn’t actually so different from Denver, Catra decided. Sure, it was busy and crowded, the skyscrapers were taller, and Catra imagined she could even hear the ocean from where she was standing. But it was still just a city. She was still the same Catra. The one incomparable difference in all of this, what she held onto like an anchor, was the promise of opportunity sparkling on the horizon.

But, if she was being honest, she was starting to doubt if it really held anything for her after all.

Because now that she was here, actually, physically here in L.A., Catra sort of felt like her dreams existed… somewhere else. In another time, or another universe. Gazing out at the Los Angeles city lights, she _should_ be on top of the world, but all she really felt was a pang of emptiness in her chest.

What did any of this really mean, if she wasn’t sharing it with Adora?

Was she truly here for herself, or was this trip just a hopeless attempt to feel somehow closer to the traitorous girl she missed so pathetically?

She prayed to whatever gods were out there that it would turn out to be the former.

 

* * *

 

Catra stared down at a tiny cupcake in her hand that looked like it had been made for a toddler.

“What _is_ this?”

“Isn’t it _adorable_?” Entrapta exclaimed around a mouthful of food. “As soon as you guys called I knew this was the _first_ thing we had to do. Dryl’s Bakery is the best place around L.A.!”

“Uh huh…” Catra took a bite of the miniature baked good. It tasted like pure vanilla extract and she immediately spit it on the floor.

“Eugh! Look, can we get out of here?” Catra whined, ignoring Entrapta’s (admittedly cute) pout. “We need to make it to the studio by one, unless we _want_ to lose the time slot.”

“Wow. Adulthood really did a number on you, huh?” Scorpia observed.

Catra shot her a glare and stalked out of the bakery, not waiting to see if they followed.

The band had rented out the cheapest recording studio they could find, which happened to be located around the block from the Santa Monica Pier. They had driven down to explore a bit earlier that morning, but everyone’s carefree attitudes were starting to get on Catra’s nerves. Water wasn’t really her favorite thing in the world, and anyway, who cared about the damn beach? Or _mini cupcakes_? Didn’t they realize how important this was?

She walked out onto the street, shielding her eyes from the sun as Entrapta, Scorpia, and Lonnie burst through the door behind her, laughing.

“Entrapta, this is _amazing_!” Scorpia swooned. “The sunlight, the fresh, ocean breeze, palm trees everywhere you look, and, oh… half-naked tourists puking on the sidewalk…”

Jesus Christ.

“Guys, focus--we can live it up in California _after_ we get this demo recorded.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lonnie replied mockingly, while the others barely seemed to hear her.

Catra clenched her fist but decided to let it go for now.

Miraculously, they arrived at the studio on time and got to work recording some new material, as well as re-recording a few older songs from their high school days--this time with Catra on lead vocals. They were only a half hour into their session when it became apparent to everyone, including herself, that Catra had underestimated just how much work actually went into the job.

“Okay, Catra, do you wanna use a ribbon or tube mic for this next track?”

She balked at the sound tech’s question.

“Uh, what’s the difference?”

Lonnie groaned. “I knew we should’ve called Adora--”

“ _We do not need Adora!_ ”

Catra seethed, the name foreign and scorching on her tongue. An awkward silence settled over the group. Tensions had been running high all session and, though they were playing well together technically, it was like there was something missing in their sound. Catra was loath to admit it but Adora had always been the glue that held the band together, and the longer they were the in the studio, the more glaring her absence became.

She had made being the frontman look so _easy_.

“Why don’t we take five…” Scorpia suggested.

“Fine by me,” Lonnie muttered.

Everyone relaxed for the moment and set aside their equipment as the sound guy stepped out.

“...Really, though, Adora didn’t want to come to L.A. with you guys?” Entrapta wondered.

“Well… we didn’t ask,” Scorpia said, looking to Catra for a better explanation.

She looked up at the ceiling with a sigh, suddenly feeling very tired.

“Because she doesn’t _care_ , okay? Look… I know this has been a hard transition. It’s just gonna take some time to find our rhythm without her.”

As Entrapta nodded in understanding, a question creeped into Catra’s mind, one that been burning there for a while. She was unable to stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth, dignity be damned.

“Have you guys… heardanythingfromherlately?”

Scorpia gave her a sympathetic look but even that wasn’t enough to make her regret asking.

“Not really,” Lonnie shrugged. “She posted on Facebook that she’s doing an internship in Boston.”

Catra kept her expression carefully neutral, despite feeling like this topic of conversation was making the walls close in around her.

“You see? She wouldn’t have come with us!” Catra forced a laugh. “Even if we _begged_.”

She looked around at everyone’s sullen expressions and straightened her shoulders.

“Alright, listen up. As far as I’m concerned, when Adora left, she took her dead weight with her! She wasn’t dedicated to this band, not like we are. _I’m_ the frontwoman now, and I promise, I won’t give up until Black Garnet is headlining stadiums across the world. So are you guys with me or what?”

Entrapta and Scorpia smiled at each other, while Lonnie crossed her arms.

“Alright, Catra. Let’s see what you got.”

 

* * *

 

It took a few phone calls, a few pulled strings, but Black Garnet had managed to get an appointment with one of the more modest record companies in the city. Catra, Scorpia, Lonnie, and Entrapta sat in a basic office opposite a record label agent as their new demo album played over the speakers. The man looked inexperienced and also entirely uninterested, typing away at his keyboard in silence.

Catra, on the other hand, was buzzing with anxiety. She tried her best to keep her expectations low despite this moment being something she had been dreaming about her whole life. Not that this was the end of the road if it didn’t go well, but it would set the precedent for the rest of the band’s time in L.A.

About one minute into the second song, the man glanced up from his monitor.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a no. Thanks for your time.”

The band deflated collectively.

“Wait!” Catra exclaimed, jumping out of her seat as the agent stood up to leave. “That’s it?!”

He paused, annoyance clear on his face. “...Yes.”

“Can you at least tell us _why_?”

He leveled a look at Catra. 

“Your sound has potential, but I’m afraid it’s a bit sloppy for our standards… I understand you’re used to playing live gigs, yes? Well unfortunately--it shows.”

Catra scoffed, trying to cover her devastation with outrage even as he continued with the haughty insults.

“This is a cut throat industry, girls. An all-female rock band would surely face heavy scrutiny, and at the level you’re at right now, you’d get torn to shreds out there. Try gaining some experience as professional musicians--then we’ll talk.”

Catra balled her hands into fists, holding back what would be a colorful but unwise string of obscenities. Was this guy serious? What could he possibly know about music, anyway, sitting in an office all day?

“Professional experience?” she sputtered, miming air quotes. “What would you suggest, then?”

The agent grimaced at her and sorted through some papers on the desk. He handed Catra a flyer.

“What’s this?”

“Ever hear of Etheria Records? They’re sponsoring a Battle of the Bands competition this summer--one of the largest in L.A. If your strength’s in live performance, then it’ll be worth your time to check it out. Maybe put Black Garnet on the map. If nothing else, it’ll teach you something about what it takes to be musicians in Los Angeles.”

Catra’s jaw dropped open as she scanned the flyer.

“Grand prize: a recording contract? With Etheria?! They’re a household name!”

He sneered at her. “Please. Black Garnet wouldn’t make it past the first round.”

Catra glowered at the asshole, then turned to see the determination on her friends’ faces.

“We’ll see about that.”

 

* * *

 

Later that night, the four of them arrived back at Entrapta’s apartment feeling energized, having agreed to sign up for the competition. They poured some drinks and settled in to work on new material for the competition.

“I gotta admit, Catra, this ain’t a bad idea,” Lonnie said. “You really think we’ll have a shot at this thing?”

Pride and fondness for the band swelled inside her at Lonnie’s words.

“Are you kidding? That contract is practically ours!” she bragged.

“I don’t know. It won’t be easy...”

“No, it won’t--but that’s why we’re gonna work our asses off. Everyone in this band is indispensable, but we’re only as good as our weakest link. So no one gets to slack off, got it?"

Catra glanced around the room, realizing all attention was on her. She watched Scorpia and Lonnie nodding in agreement and felt a warm weight settle over her.

“I never really... thanked you guys, did I? For being so cool about dropping everything, just to fly out here with me.”

“No, you didn’t,” Lonnie reprimanded her with a smile.

Catra had a sudden flashback to when she had met all of them, the summer after 6th grade. Adora--her only friend at the time--had dragged her out to some classmate’s birthday party, where the five of them had bonded over the stupid pop music and the even stupider, judgmental preppy kids.

“You know… being in this band with you all probably saved my life in high school. All I ever wanted was just to get our music _out there_ , to be a haven for kids who were just like us--outcasts. Rejects. This is our shot at making that happen, guys. Whether you think we can win or not, let’s make a pact right now to give this everything we have.”

Everyone watched Catra with admiration as they listened. Lonnie raised her glass.

“To Black Garnet! And to Catra. Sounds like we finally have a real frontwoman.”

Catra clinked her glass of soda against Lonnie’s, unable to hide a blush.

“To Black Garnet!” Scorpia and Entrapta toasted.

As her bandmates laughed, Catra marvelled at how right this moment felt, all the pain and work that had led her here, and how much farther they still had to go together. She hadn’t really expected things to turn out like this, but... she felt it was a step towards something good, something better than she could have ever imagined.

“So what’s first, boss?” Scorpia asked her.

Catra rubbed her chin. “Well, before we start working on songs, it’d be good to know what we’re up against. Wanna do some research on the competition?”

“On it!” Entrapta sang and rushed to grab her laptop. Everyone crowded around her at the kitchen table as Entrapta typed in the URL at the bottom of the flyer. She navigated to a page listing all the bands signed up for the first round, and there were a _lot_.

“Okay, let’s see… Do you think these guys have-- _”_

“ _Wait.”_

Catra’s heart stopped beating.

“It can’t be...”

The world stopped spinning.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

She must be hallucinating. She squinted at the screen, as if that would somehow change the words on it. Her bandmates argued around her but it sounded distant and muffled, like she was a thousand miles away.

Because halfway down the list, under a band named “Rebellion,” was the name of a girl she had never expected, or even _wanted_ , to see again… let alone _compete against_ for the opportunity to finally turn her dreams into reality.

No.

This wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be.

It... it had to be a  _joke_. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall!! thanks for reading ily :) id love to hear any thoughts you have, suggestions, criticisms, hopes, dreams, etc. also i should probably say i dont have a set update schedule for this fic right now, its just happening organically. however it's all i think about 24/7 so


	3. And we were just kids in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 2 summary: 4 years after Adora left for Boston, Catra had given up on her dreams and was trying to fill the void with anything she could. Then, she had a revelation, and decided to get Black Garnet back together. When the band moved out to L.A., they signed up for a famous Battle of the Bands and were shocked to see Adora was already signed up with her new band, Rebellion.

She had to listen to it.

It wasn’t personal--just business. She had to feel out the competition.

And that now included Adora.

Catra glared up at her phone--a fancy touch screen Entrapta had loaned her--thumb hesitating over the play button. She had gone to the trouble of buying Rebellion’s EP on iTunes just to stare at the cover art, apparently, because it was five days later and she still hadn’t listened to the damn thing.

What if there was a song about her?

...What if there _wasn’t?_

She sat up abruptly, ripping out her headphones and angrily knocking a bunch of Entrapta’s notes and textbooks off the coffee table. One of them landed near Lonnie, who was by the door lacing up her running shoes. She raised an eyebrow at Catra.

“Damn. What did... ‘Advanced Post-Quantum Cryptography’ ever do to you?”

Catra bristled, somehow missing the days when she only had _one_ irritating roommate. Though she had to admit swapping insults was infinitely preferable to dealing with Scorpia’s pity, or Entrapta’s incurable positivity.

“Fuck off, would you?”

Lonnie cackled, unrepentant. “Still haven’t listened to the album, huh?”

Catra wished desperately that she would just leave.  She was too perceptive and Catra was too impetuous.

“Because I already know what’s on it!” she blurted. “Stupid, shallow pop music that’s not even real music because it’s been chewed through a capitalist grater--”

“Oh my _god,_ suck it up, Lennon. You’re just afraid it might actually be good.”

Catra scoffed. “I’m afraid it’ll make me puke...”

Lonnie eyed her as she grabbed her keys and opened the door.

“You know they’re playing a gig across town tonight?”

_“What!”_

Catra shot up off the couch and instantly regretted it, lightheaded from the casual reminder that Adora was _here_.

“How do you know that?”

“You don’t follow them on Facebook?”

 _“No!_ Jesus Christ… Why would I wanna go to a show anyway when I can’t even make myself listen to the damn--” she clenched her fists and cut herself off. “Wait, why aren’t you going?”

Lonnie shrugged. “I’m not exactly Adora’s biggest fan. Haven’t talked to the girl in years. Plus Entrapta said this is supposed to be the party of the century! You sure you don’t wanna come with us?”

Catra pictured herself surrounded by girls, drugs, and free alcohol, and she crossed her arms.

“Nah… I shouldn’t. Avoiding temptation, you know?”

“What are you, a puritan now?” Lonnie goaded, a hint of a genuine smile on her face.

“ _No._ ”

Potentially.

“Alright, Catra,” she laughed. “Have a fun night by yourself, I guess.”

She shut the door behind her. Catra groaned and fell back against the couch. She listened to Lonnie’s footsteps fade, then reached for her phone and brought up Rebellion’s Facebook page. She was right, they were playing a show in a couple of hours. Lonnie must have been the only one who knew about it, because if Entrapta and Scorpia did, Catra was sure they would’ve wanted to see Adora… but then, why would she only tell _Catra?_

She let out a heavy sigh. Fucking Lonnie.

Well, she _wasn’t_ going.

No way in hell.

She was about to close the app when she accidentally scrolled to a photo of the band. They were in the middle of a show, Adora the only one in focus. Of course.

The longer she looked at it, the angrier she felt.

Four years ago, Catra had made the decision to cut Adora out of her life. And she had a lot of regrets but… she honestly couldn’t say that was one of them.

She had finally learned how to stand up for herself. To live on her own, to discover her own passions and desires and figure out what _she_ wanted out of life, rather than what Adora wanted _for_ her. She found self worth that she didn’t know existed outside of Adora. She was finally able to climb out from under her shadow.

And now her looming presence was threatening to steal all of that away again.

Why, of _all places_ , did she have to show up in fucking Los Angeles? She had no right to compete in this competition! Battles were meant for amateur bands, not educated jackasses with college degrees. Adora could get any job, do _anything_ she wanted, but of _course_ she decided to come to L.A. and fuck with Catra’s head, fuck up this _one_ opportunity that Catra had claimed for herself. She should go down to this gig just to give Adora a fucking piece of her mind--

Catra leapt up and started pacing back and forth across the living room.

No, she couldn’t do that to her. Just show up in her life again with no warning… Or could she? It’s not like Adora gave her any warning when she walked _out_ of Catra’s life so easily. Besides, she had to at least know by now that Black Garnet was signed up. Did she know her old friends were in L.A. and didn’t even bother calling them up? Was she really just going to act like they didn’t exist to her anymore? How _dare_ she! What the fuck was she here for, anyway?!

Fueled by blind indignation and a healthy dose of idiocy, Catra started tearing through her duffle bag looking for something to wear.

If she was going to do this, she wanted to look fucking hot.

 

* * *

 

Catra leaned against a table in a dark corner of the venue as she waited for Adora’s band to come on stage. She stuck her hands in her pockets, not sure what to do with them when she wasn’t holding a drink.  She glanced around the place with disdain. It was big, a lot classier than the gigs Black Garnet was used to playing. There were _tables_ , for one thing. The bar had expensive drinks, the equipment on stage was top of the line. The crowd was full of hipsters and wannabe punks wearing NIrvana t-shirts. Back in high school, these idiots would’ve been the punch line of Adora’s jokes… now, she was one of them.

A couple whoops sounded from the crowd. Catra perked up as a short, stalwart girl walked out on stage and sat behind the drums. She looked young, but she wore a deathly serious expression that contradicted her appearance. She rapped a calculated flourish before settling into a steady beat--the beginnings of a song, apparently.

Following her was a strikingly beautiful girl, who nearly tripped over some tangled cables on her way out the stage door and shot an exhausted glare at them. Catra watched her with amused interest. She picked up an ocean blue gibson guitar and started plucking a surprisingly sparkly riff to match the drums.

Next came a pretty blonde with flowers in her hair, who introduced an underlying rhythm with a rosewood bass.

As each new band member appeared, Catra’s pride sunk lower and lower. She had thought that Black Garnet might’ve used it’s status as the only all-girl band to attract attention in the competition (if only to show up that misogynistic asshole of an agent), but… so much for that. Not to mention they looked and sounded _amazing_ together. Catra glanced at the bar and dug her nails into the palm of her hand as an overwhelming urge to drink hit her.

Another girl walked on stage and the crowd came alive with energy at her appearance. She had short, bright pink hair that made Catra nauseous, and wore a Berklee crop top with ridiculous, glittery pants. She made her way to a circular piano on the side of the stage and hopped into the middle of it.The impressive instrument lit up with neon lights as she played a single chord, the atmospheric sound building and filling the venue.

There was only one unclaimed instrument left on stage. It was a classic electric guitar, a red and white Fender strat.

And there was only one person it could belong to.

Catra elbowed her way through all the bodies in an effort to melt anonymously into the back of the crowd. Despite the music blasting all around her, the loudest sound in her ears was her own pulse. How different would she be, since the last time Catra had seen her? Would she look the same? Sound the same? Have the same inescapable, hypnotic power over her? She bounced anxiously on the balls of her feet and almost considered turning around and leaving-- 

But then she saw her.

Time seemed to slow down. She stood paralyzed while the people around her erupted in whistles and applause.

Adora was... the same as always. More mature, maybe. More self-assured. She was dressed in a loose tank top instead of a t-shirt, combat boots instead of sneakers. Ripped skinny jeans that might have been a little tighter than Catra remembered.

Damn. She looked  _really_ good.

Passing by the keyboard on her way to center stage, Adora leaned over the keys and pulled the pink-haired girl in for a ki-- _Oh._

_Fuck._

Jealousy pierced through Catra’s chest, hot and twisting like a lightning bolt.

The girl pulled the ponytail out of Adora’s hair as they kissed and ran her fingers through it. Catra noticed numbly that she had let her hair grow out… Long, golden waves fell around her shoulders and down her back.

Catra shook her head. What a joke--as if she had any right to feel jealous. As if that didn’t make her a giant hypocrite.

The thing was… Growing up, Catra had never been totally sure whether Adora was into girls. She had her suspicions, obviously, but seeing her like this, confident in her sexuality, kind of floored Catra. To think that she really _did_ have a chance with her when they were kids--

She immediately slammed the breaks on that train of thought.

The girls broke apart, laughing and waving off the crowd’s jeers. Adora grabbed the Fender guitar and pulled the strap over her shoulder. She was like Catra, now--lead vocalist _and_ a guitarist. It would have almost been hard to tell their bands apart, except for the obvious aesthetic differences. Where Black Garnet was dark and angry, Rebellion had a sound like dirty bubblegum. Could they even be called a punk band?

“What’s the matter, L.A?” Adora laughed breathlessly into the microphone. “Never heard of a lesbian?”

...Holy _shit._

The crowd went wild and Catra felt herself blushing, furiously.

“We are the Rebellion! One, two, one two three four--”

(And God, hearing her sing again…)

 

* * *

 

At some point, Catra retreated to a table in the back to brood. The show had just ended and she overheard people’s conversations as they slowly trickled out of the venue, gushing about what an amazing set it had been.

 _Sure,_ she thought. _If you_ like _dirty bubblegum music._

Catra couldn’t deny that they were good. Their melodies were infectious, Adora’s stage presence captivating (to say the least). But there was something they were missing… something that she had always felt Black Garnet’s music overflowing with.

_Heart._

Rebellion’s lyrics were strong, and uplifting, and… Manufactured.

Oddly, this realization had Catra feeling unsettled rather than cocky.  She wondered who Adora was writing songs with now. Pink Hair Girl? Was she writing by herself?

At least none of the songs had been about shitty ex-best friends. Explicitly, anyway.

She was shaken from her thoughts when her eyes landed on Adora, who was standing by the merch table laughing with one of her bandmates. The girl picked a box up and vanished out the back, leaving Adora alone.

It was weird--like this, working on the venue floor, Adora seemed so... ordinary. So much like the friend Catra used to know, instead of the hot shot performer that had commanded the stage earlier. But then Adora tied her hair up in a messy bun, and Catra noticed for the first time a black mark on her neck that disappeared beneath her tank top.

Jesus--was that a fucking _tattoo?_ Maybe she shouldn't be making assumptions.

Catra forced herself to focus. She refused to let Adora get away with whatever messed up game she was playing. A memory popped into her head then, one of the last things Adora ever said to her, back when Catra couldn’t imagine her life without her.

_“I don’t know why I thought you’d understand. You’ve been holding me back this whole time…”_

Well, if that’s the way she felt, then Catra made a promise to herself that underestimating her would forever be Adora’s biggest regret. She pushed herself up from the table, pulse racing faster with every step, until she stood just behind her childhood friend. The table between them may as well have been an ocean.

She took a deep breath.

“Need some help with that?”

Adora froze immediately at the sound of her voice.

She stumbled and spun around, face slack with shock. Though Catra figured she knew she was in town for the competition, she probably didn’t expect to see her _tonight._  And it was just the edge Catra needed.

“Holy shit...” she breathed. _“_ _Catra?_ _”_

Catra stuck a hand in her pocket--an attempt at looking casual--and put on her best smug, disaffected smirk.

“Hey, Adora.”

She watched as the surprise melted prematurely into happiness, and Adora took an instinctive step towards her, then stopped, hesitating. She’d be lying to herself if she said that, after all these years, seeing Adora light up because of her didn’t take her breath away.

She didn’t have to like it, though.

“Uh, hi! Wow! I didn’t, I mean--you’re, wow--”

Adora cleared her throat and Catra’s smirk turned genuine.

“--How... are you?” she finished lamely.

 _How am I_ …  _Let me think._   _Betrayed. Heartbroken. Failed school, lost my job. Watched the girl who ripped my heart to pieces make out with someone else._

Catra had some choice words to describe exactly _how_ she was, but before she could respond, Pink Hair Girl appeared in the back doorway, and suddenly her chest felt like it had been set on fire.

“What’s the hold up, babe? Frosta needs to head out and she kinda terrifies me when she’s pissed.”

Adora jumped, glancing back and forth between her and Catra. _God,_  this chick was high strung. Was Adora seriously with her?

“Ah, sorry, Glimmer--can you give me a couple minutes?”

There was an awkward pause as Glimmer gave Catra an appraising once-over.

“Your funeral,” she sang, and walked off.

Catra could almost feel the tension radiating off of Adora and she couldn’t help but revel in it a little. She crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow wordlessly. Adora glared at her.

“Don’t say it.”

Catra held back a laugh. “I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

She rolled her eyes and, despite the circumstances of this moment, their banter felt _easy_ somehow. Natural _._ Kind of like returning after a long journey to find out that your whole town had been demolished. It might have been broken and empty, but, you know. It was still home.

“What are you... doing here?”

“Oh, just checking out the competition,” she drawled.

Adora narrowed her eyes suspiciously but wasn’t taking the bait just yet.

“I meant in L.A., actually.”

 _That_ was the question of the century.

“Me? What about you?” Catra scoffed. She walked around the table as she spoke, coming to stand in front of her. “I thought you were in Boston… you know, taking on our corrupted bureaucracy one standardized test at a time.”

_Rebellion. Ha. Fucking ironic band name._

It was a joke but it wasn’t, and Adora crossed her arms to mirror Catra’s pose, finally seeming to catch on that this wasn’t a social visit. It took all of Catra’s energy to ignore the way the bar lights were playing against her biceps.

_Focus, idiot._

“Seriously, Catra? Four years of radio silence, and you just came here to insult me?”

Dormant feelings of spite and anger shot through Catra. She stepped closer until she could see her ugly scowl reflected in Adora’s diamond blue eyes.

“I came here to tell you not to get in our way,” Catra hissed.

Adora reeled back in surprise, and it was _so_ fucking satisfying. Catra pressed her advantage, forcing Adora farther backwards with every word.

“I don’t even know why I’m surprised you want to ruin this for me, just like you have _everything_ else--”

“Wha--I’m not trying to ‘ruin’ anything! You’re the one--”

“Why are you nerds even signed up for this battle? What, were you shocked when you got out in the real world and realized that expensive degree wasn’t worth shit?”

Catra let up when she saw that her advance had forced Adora up against a wall, but Adora was recovering from the onslaught now, standing a little taller.

“Are you kidding? We have as much of a right to be here as you!” she asserted angrily, evasively.

Catra couldn’t believe her audacity, like she had _any_ right to be here! She chose to leave this life behind her. To leave _Catra_ behind. This was Black Garnet’s shot at success, and Catra was damned if a bunch of elite assholes were going to steal it from them.

“If you knew what was good for you, you'd drop out now,” she growled dangerously.

But Adora just smirked down at her. “Why? Afraid you’ll lose?”

All at once Catra became hyperaware of the position they had found themselves in. Adora’s body was just inches away from her own. She could feel the heat of her skin, smell the sweet perfume rising off her. Combined with the competitive zeal in her eyes, all of it felt like deja vu and it infuriated Catra. She placed a hand on the wall beside Adora and leaned closer in a show of intimidation, so close she could feel her breath; and judging by the way Adora’s smirk vanished, it must have had the desired effect.

“Not even a little,” she murmured.

Finally, Adora snapped and shoved her backwards.

“Fuck you.”

Catra steadied herself, taken off guard by the serious retort.

“Bully me all you want, Catra. But it’s not my problem you can’t let go of a stupid high school grudge. We’re just trying to get signed, same as you, and we’re not leaving until we do.  So you’re just gonna have to deal with it.”

Adora pushed past her. She grabbed the last box off the table and marched off towards the exit, leaving Catra gaping after her. _High school grudge?_ Seriously? That’s what she was calling it?

“You don’t belong here anymore, Adora!” she taunted desperately, refusing to let her have the last word. “Go back to Boston!”

Pausing by the door, Adora turned to steal one last glimpse of her, an unreadable expression on her face.

Panic clutched unexpectedly at Catra’s heart.

And then she was gone.

 

* * *

 

Afterwards, Catra caught a taxi to a nearby liquor store, lost in a familiar mix of misery and self-loathing.

What the hell had she been thinking?

There had been a moment when Adora smiled at her, and she realized she had a decision to make. Hold onto who she was, or let herself be consumed again. She chose the former. She just didn’t know that respecting herself would still hurt this much.

Standing in line at the cash register, she considered the cheap bottle of vodka in her hand.

Was that what she was doing now? Respecting herself?

“Next,” the cashier droned.

...Well, maybe she had hit her limit for the night. 

She handed the bottle to the guy and got out her wallet to pay.

Wait--the fuck? Where was her I.D.?

She panicked a little, flipping through her cards as the cashier sighed impatiently. In place of her license, she found a note, instead. She pulled it out and unfolded it.

 

_Dont even think about it_

 

Catra stared in outrage at the piece of paper...

 _Fucking_ Lonnie.

 

* * *

 

 

_\- Adora’s Perspective -_

 

Adora and Glimmer sat together on their couch after the show, in the little house they were renting with the rest of their bandmates. They were the only ones still up--the clock read 1:32am.

“You’ve been kinda quiet since the show,” Glimmer hinted.

Adora just shrugged, playing distractedly with her bracelet.

“...Does it have something to do with that grungy girl you were with earlier? It looked… kind of intense. Who is she, anyway?”

Adora laughed without humor. “I don’t even know anymore.”

Glimmer raised her eyebrows in question and Adora couldn’t help but yield just a little.

“Her name’s Catra,” she sighed. “We sort of... grew up together.”

“Oh…!” Glimmer slumped against the back of the couch in surprise, watching her carefully. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

This was the weird thing about friends with benefits. It was a merciful distraction from the loneliness, but it constantly felt like they were straddling some invisible boundary line. Was Glimmer asking about Catra because she genuinely cared, or because she was jealous? Not that there was anything for her to be jealous _about_. Catra hated her--she had made that pretty clear. The fact that they couldn’t have a civil conversation after four years apart just proved how unsalvageable their relationship was.

“Thanks, but I think I’m just gonna get some sleep.”

As she moved to stand up, Glimmer caught her hand.

“Hey. You know I’m always here for you, right? As a friend, or whatever?”

Warmth spread through Adora, and she felt kind of guilty for having doubted her intentions. She pulled the smaller girl to her feet, wrapped her arms around her, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Glimmer’s easy laughter reverberated through Adora’s chest and it was enough, it was enough, it was enough.

“I know,” she murmured into her hair. “Come to bed with me?”

Glimmer yawned. “Honestly, I think I’m too exhausted… Raincheck, though?”

Adora pulled back with a smile, hiding her anxiety at the thought of being alone tonight.

“Yeah. No worries.”

Later, in the early darkness of the morning, Adora lay in bed wide awake with no company except her own demons.

Her vision blurred as she thought over her confrontation with Catra and frustrated tears welled up in her eyes, sliding soundlessly down the sides of her face. It felt good to cry. Cathartic. But it wasn’t _enough_. She was _so_ miserably angry, heart straining with each beat, that she was amazed it hadn’t given up on her altogether. She’d do anything for some kind of distraction, some relief, and a dark impulse crossed her mind, something she hadn’t felt driven to do in years. She dug her nails painfully into her arm until her eyes dried and she felt like she could breathe again.

When she had seen Black Garnet on the band registry, Adora knew that this war between them was inevitable. She cursed whatever malevolent power in the universe had brought her to L.A. at the same time as Catra, somehow fulfilling their childhood dreams while ironically exacerbating the distance between them. Catra had glared at her with so much pain and contempt it had left her speechless--but it also sparked her own anger. Yes, Adora had chosen her dreams over Catra. Given the chance, she’d do it again. But she wasn’t the one who had ended their friendship and set it ablaze until there was nothing but smoking ash. That was _not_ on Adora, and she refused to accept the blame for it. As much as she had wanted to apologize, she knew Catra wouldn’t have accepted it, and she didn’t think that she would have truly meant it, anyway.

Catra acted like this competition was a game to Adora, but truthfully, it meant _everything_. A deal with Etheria Records? It was everything she had wanted since she was a little girl. It was her chance to prove to herself that she really could do this, that she was _good enough_ to be a performer, to play the kind of music that she was passionate about. It was her chance to prove her father wrong.

More importantly, though... it was a chance to make her mother proud. She could remember fighting off sleep as a child just to keep listening to her sweet voice, singing lullabies as she drifted off. She wondered what her mother would say to her now, and laughed a little, wiping fresh tears off her face. Of course she’d say that she loved her. That she was _already_ so proud of her, and that nothing would ever change that.

But Adora had worked her whole life for this. She’d given up _everything_ for it. Her friends, her dad’s support, years spent studying and working when she could’ve been enjoying her childhood. And _Catra_ \--fucking Catra, who was sacrificing absolutely nothing to be in L.A. Catra, who had never worked seriously for anything in her life. Catra, who felt like somehow _she_ deserved the grand prize of this competition over Adora? It was enough to drive her insane.

Yet, seeing her again, after all this time… Even through the argument and hostility, Adora had caught glimpses of her old friend. But they had both changed so much. She would give anything to go back in time with her, try to rewrite their history, try to make her _understand_. God, how different her life would be, if they had never lost each other.

The argument replayed over and over in her head, and there was a particular detail she kept getting stuck on. Something she had to work out before she could just let it go and hopefully get some sleep tonight. She touched her fingers to lips, remembering the way Catra had leaned so close to her that their breath mingled, and for a split second, Adora was sixteen again, oblivious and naive and entirely unprepared for how one moment would totally alter her life.

 

_**\- Six Years Ago - March 2003 -** _

 

Your touch is like the air I breathe

Your kiss is like

_Your kiss is like… The songs I sing? The love I need?_

_Adora tapped her pencil against the journal page, frowning. She looked up at Catra, who was just lying down on Adora’s bed after stealing a copy of Antony & Cleopatra off her bookshelf. _

_“Dude, Isn’t your quiz on Hamlet?”_

_“Yeah. So?”_

_She shook her head, hiding her irritation. Catra was one of the smartest people she knew and it was beyond frustrating how she threw her potential away so carelessly. But she had given up trying to change her._

_“Whatever, can you can help me with these lyrics, then? They need a hopeless romantic’s touch.”_

_Catra’s face scrunched up._

_“What? I am_ not _a--”_

_“Antony & Cleopatra? Really? Yesterday I overheard you in the shower singing Unchained Melody--” _

_Catra hurled her book at Adora and she fell over laughing._

_“_ Never _repeat that to_ anyone!... _Ugh. Just read me your dumb lyrics.”_

_“Great,” she snickered. “This is it, so far: ‘Your touch is like the air I breathe. Your kiss is like…?’”_

_Catra pretended to give it serious consideration._

_“A hit of weed?”_

_“...Okay, you’re not nearly as funny as you think you are--”_

_Catra cracked up at her own comedic genius. “I don’t know, Adora! What’s so great about a kiss, anyway?”_

_Adora froze, gaping at her._

_“What?! How can you say that! ...I mean… unless you’ve never…?”_

_She didn't mean to pry, but it wasn’t something they really talked about, especially since Catra had come out to her. She was curious._

_“I have!” she said defensively. “It’s just... it was with a guy. Before I realized--well, you know. And I guess it didn’t really feel like anything.”_

_There was a hint of shame in her voice, and she sighed like this conversation was exhausting her._

_Adora didn’t fully understand what she meant. She had a lot of experience kissing boys, and it was always pretty fun--butterflies, excitement, feeling desired. All that. But she supposed it was because she was straight. Adora had a thought like she wished she could help Catra somehow, and suddenly an idea popped into her head--a really, really, amazingly bad idea--but before she could think about it too much, the words just sort of tumbled out of her mouth._

_“Oh... Why don’t you just kiss me?”_

_Yeah. That sounded even more ridiculous out loud._

_Catra didn’t react at all for a few seconds, then--_

_“Gross! No way,” she sputtered stiffly._

_Okay,_ that _wasn’t offensive or anything._

_“Why not!” she exclaimed. She jumped up on the bed next to her, ignoring Catra’s responding groan. “Wouldn’t you rather do it with someone you’re already comfortable with? No pressure?”_

_Her face turned a bright shade of pink when she realized she was serious, and suddenly Adora was having a_ lot _of fun._

_“Uh, really, I don’t think--”_

_“Come on, it wouldn’t be a big deal,” Adora interrupted. She shifted so she was facing Catra and put a hand on her shoulder. “Just trust me. Close your eyes.”_

_Catra’s eyes widened, instead, and Adora laughed, feeling weirdly giddy._

_“Okay, fine. I will.”_

_She shut her eyes and leaned in towards her, giving the control over to Catra. But she still didn’t move an inch._

_“Adora?...”_

_“Catra,” she mocked._

_Catra huffed in annoyance, and she finally felt her start to shift closer._

_“Can’t believe you’re making me do this,” she grumbled. Adora grinned, like this was the funniest thing in the world. “There better be fireworks, since apparently you’re such an expert at this.”_

_“Oh, bet on it.”_

_Catra grazed her fingers lightly along her jaw, then used one to tilt Adora’s chin up towards her. She felt her warm breath on her lips, and suddenly Adora wasn’t laughing anymore._

_Or thinking._

_Catra swallowed. “Um… Are you ready?”_

_She nodded and her heart started beating faster. Pounding, actually._

_Huh. That.... had never happened with her other kisses._

_She expected it to be hesitant, awkward. Maybe kind of funny. But instead, Catra threaded her hand through her hair and kissed Adora slowly, assuredly, catching her bottom lip between hers._

_And suddenly the whole world fell away from Adora’s awareness and there was nothing except the warmth of Catra’s mouth, and Catra’s touch, and Catra, Catra, Catra. The room could have caught on fire and she wouldn’t have noticed. Her heart was crashing so fast inside her chest, it threatened to leap out completely._

_Catra raised her other hand to her jaw and brushed her lips softly against Adora’s, just once, sending a shiver down her spine. She didn’t understand what kind of black magic this was, that had her feeling like a lamb being led willingly to the altar. She responded unconsciously, leaning into the kiss, submitting to Catra’s lead. She smelled like musk and coffee and cigarettes and Adora kind of wanted to know if she tasted like it, too--_

_When Catra abruptly pulled away._

_She opened her eyes to find that she was smirking at her._

_And then reality came crashing back._

_…_

_What... the heck... was_ that?

_Adora tried to compose herself enough to speak. It proved challenging with Catra’s hands still touching her skin._

_“H-How was that?” she got out eventually._

_“Eh,” Catra joked, appearing unfazed. “You could use some practice.”_

_Her annoyingly smug expression sobered Adora, who scoffed and leaned back as well, causing Catra to drop her hands. Adora took a breath, probably for the first time in minutes._

_“Come on, seriously! What’d you think?”_

_Catra laughed breathily, turning away from her. “Yeah, it was, um. Different.”_

_Just… Different?_

_“Like, better or worse than kissing a boy?” she pressed, trying not to sound desperately interested._

_“Yeesh, why the interrogation?”_

_“I’m not--!” Adora scrunched her nose, her old, very platonic exasperation towards Catra returning. Catra grinned at her reaction._

_“Okay, fine! It was magical, incredible, life changing--happy?”_

_“Oh my god,” Adora laughed, pushing her over. “Just shut up.”_

_Sure. This was fine. Things were pretty much feeling normal again._ _She remembered the journal lying on the floor and bent down to pick it up, thankful for the distraction._

 _“Since you’ve had a real kiss, now, can you_ please _help me write this song?”_

_She handed Catra the book, who examined it thoughtfully._

_“Maybe it doesn’t have to be a simile to sound good? Something like, ‘Your touch is like the air I breathe... Your kiss, it changes everything.’”_

_Huh... That actually flowed really well._

_“Catra. You’re a genius.”_

_She smiled like a dork and Adora tried her best to ignore the funny things it was doing to her stomach._

_“It’s about time you realized..."_

 

_**\- Present Day - April 2009 -** _

 

The memory played like a glitchy, overused VCR tape in Adora’s head. In hindsight, she couldn’t really believe that it took her so long to figure out she had fallen in love that night. It probably had something to do with the fact that, not even a week after the kiss, Catra had announced happily that she was going on a date with some stupid girl on the cross country team.

And after that… she didn’t know. They just pretended like nothing had even happened between them.

Adora slipped out of bed and took out a box from underneath, which was filled with old keepsakes. It took her a moment but, there, at the bottom, she found what she was looking for and pulled it out--the old song journal. It’s leather cover was cracked and frayed, it’s binding starting to come apart. She pulled the string off its hook and opened up to the page with the song from her memory.

 _Your kiss, it changes everything_.

Adora’s chest ached as she brushed her fingertips across the words.

It was funny, they never actually ended up recording the song, or adding it to any setlists. She guessed it was a little sappy for Black Garnet.

...Maybe not for Rebellion, though...

Carefully, Adora tore the page from the journal, an idea forming.


	4. You hollow out my hungry eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains a nsfw scene
> 
> Ch. 3 summary: Catra went to a Rebellion show to confront Adora and tell her to drop out of the competition, but Adora was not easily intimidated. Later, Adora struggled to come to terms with Catra’s hatred and reminisced about a song they wrote together when they were teenagers.

 

A couple of months passed uneventfully following that disastrous reunion.

In preparation for the competition, Catra pushed herself and her bandmates to the limit, practicing nearly every night for hours on end… but it never felt like enough. She didn’t think she’d be satisfied until they crushed Rebellion in a defeat so humiliating that Adora couldn’t even _pay_ a record label to take her on.

In the meantime, her savings had dried up, and she thought she might lose her mind if she didn’t escape her current living situation soon. And really, who knew how far they would get in this competition? When it was over, what would she do? Just go back to Denver? Yeah, right. So, she started looking for work. Something that would teach her more about the music scene in L.A. Something that would shatter Adora’s precious ego when she finally realized that she had wasted four years of her life at school just to end up in the same exact place as Catra.

So that’s how Catra ended up as an A&R intern for Grayskull Records, a well-established local alternative label.

“Thanks for your help this morning, Catra!” her boss said, as Catra hung up the office phone.

 _Another_ stupid scheduling conflict. But it was fine. Actually, as the weeks passed, Catra realized that she was really learning a lot about the music industry. Tricks on artist development, on recording, on advertisement. The job wasn’t as much of a chore as she’d thought it would be.

“You sure you’ll be fine if I head out early? It’s just, it’s the first day of the battle...”

“Yes, go, go! I know you need to get down there to set up. Good luck, sweetie, you’ve worked hard for this! You’re going to do great!”

A proud smile blossomed across Catra’s face, but it felt foreign and wrong and she suppressed it on instinct. Catra’s boss was a gracious, maternal woman, and she didn’t think she would ever get used to her kindness.

“Right, uh, thanks--Okay. Later.”

She gathered her things and headed out the door.

Well. Here goes nothing.

 

* * *

 

Catra climbed out of a taxi and was hit with the salty smell of the Pacific, just a few hundred yards to the west.

Despite feeling a little out of place, she took in the scene around her with a kind of lightness in her heart. When Catra looked back on her life, she wanted to remember how it felt to exist here in this moment. Standing at the precipice, looking out over an entire kingdom that was hers for the taking. This could be the start of everything.

All she had to do now was not fuck it up.

Above her, huge letters strung between the rooftops spelled out VENICE against the backdrop of a perfect blue sky. The summer air was hot and humid, the boardwalk crowded with people--shoppers, skateboarders, beachgoers, street performers. Out on the beach were several huge mobile stages, one of which she’d soon be performing on.

As she navigated through the chaos, Catra felt a flicker of panic. She tried her best to shove it down. Of all the things she was oppressed by in her life, she would not let _happiness_ be one of them.

“Catra! There you are!” someone shouted, snapping her out it. Catra squinted toward the beach and saw Scorpia waving at her enthusiastically. She was standing at an info table with their other bandmates, who turned and smiled brightly when they saw Catra. And for reasons that she would absolutely never acknowledge to anyone--least of all herself--she felt her anxiety ebb quietly away.

She headed over and saw they were talking to some dude with a clipboard.

“You must be Catra,” he said with a frustrated smile. “I’m Peyton, a talent scout from Etheria Records. I’ve been assigned to your stage today. So, now that you’re all here... why don’t we go over some basics about the competition?”

“Sounds great,” Catra said, mind already wandering.

She gazed out across the beach and her eyes flicked from one tall blonde to the next without conscious permission.

Adora… She was here. Somewhere. The strong likelihood of running into her today filled Catra with apprehension after spending the past two months agonizing over their last meeting. She thanked whatever gods were up there that they wouldn’t be directly competing against each other in the first round of the battle. Maybe she’d get lucky. Maybe Rebellion would get axed, and then she wouldn’t have to worry about seeing Adora ever again.

Then again, luck had never really been on her side.

“...your score will depend mostly on audience engagement,” Peyton’s voice filtered in through her thoughts. “So you’ll want to focus on impressing the crowd, not the judges. Anyway, as you know, this is a three day event. You’ll be sharing your stage with ten other bands, and at the end of today, five of them will be eliminated. The second day, we will choose one winner from each stage to make up the six finalists. And on the last day, we’ll narrow it down to the final two, who will go on to compete in a grand finale battle. Any questions so far?”

“Oh! I have one,” Entrapta interjected. “Is there an extra generator we can use? We have a uniquely high voltage requirement.”

Peyton looked at her with thinly veiled impatience, and Catra propped an elbow up on Entrapta’s shoulder protectively. She shot a challenging look at the guy, who appeared to rethink whatever he was about to say.

“You know, I’m not sure. But let me direct you to one of our stage techs…”

They followed him around to the back of their assigned stage, and as they walked, Entrapta suddenly stopped and grabbed Catra by the shoulders.

“You have no aptitude for technology!”

“Oh… thanks.”  

“Sorry, what I mean is, you don’t want to help with stage set up, right?” she clarified, handing Catra a set of car keys. “Could you do me a favor? I left my APC40 MIDI in the car.”

Catra stared at her blankly.

“It’s a... little black box. With buttons,” she enunciated slowly.

“I knew that!”

(She didn’t.)

“...Alright, fine, where are you parked?”

Entrapta pecked a quick kiss on Catra’s nose and Catra reeled back in disgust as she ran to catch up with their friends.

“A lot off Windward Court! Bye!”

_“Entrapta!”_

Catra grimaced, scrubbing at her nose.

She had no idea where that was, but there was a sign for a Windward _Plaza_ , so she headed that way, into a messy fray of people. She got directions from the hottest girl she could find and eventually made her way down a deserted side street, breathing a sigh of relief as she left the cacophony of voices behind. When she inhaled again, Catra nearly choked.

The scent of marijuana in the air was faint, but unmistakable.

And fuck, it was _heavenly_. Like the warm aroma of coffee in the morning. Catra groaned. This place was going to be the death of her. She rounded the corner of a building and stopped dead in her tracks.

There, leaning casually against a red sports bike parked next to Entrapta’s car… Was Adora.

She was gazing over at a group of people across the street, and when she brought her hand to her mouth, Catra realized with a jolt where the smell was coming from... She watched, dumbstruck, as Adora took a languid drag of a joint, smoke rising from her mouth as she slowly exhaled. She was wearing distressed jeans, an open flannel over a crop top, a backwards Dodgers baseball cap.

The sight made Catra’s head spin. It was effortless. It was maddening.

The last time she had seen her, Catra had been expecting it. She had been in _control_. This time, it felt like a kick to the gut.

Catra barely had time to process the situation before her presence was noticed. Adora jumped a little in surprise, and an acrid smile crossed her face that left Catra with a bad taste in her mouth.

“Perfect,” Adora muttered to herself, rolling her eyes. “What do you _want_ , Catra?”

She couldn’t think of a time that Adora had ever greeted her with such animosity, and it was… jarring, to say the least. She wished she had something interesting to say, some witty comeback. But it was like her heart was marching in revolt against her head.

She ended up raising her hands in mock surrender as she strolled over to Entrapta’s purple convertible.

“I didn’t even know you were _here_ , Jesus...”

She popped the door open and grabbed the MIDI controller off the seat, feeling Adora’s eyes on her; but when she turned around to face her, she was looking back off into the distance, taking another drag. Catra set the controller on top of the car and leaned back against it, crossing her arms.

She had to ask. Goddammit. She couldn’t _not_ ask.

“Since when do you smoke?” Catra scoffed.

Or tried to--the hostility fell kind of flat. Adora squinted at her like she was judging her intentions.

“College,” she shrugged. “Since when do you care what I do?”

Okay. That was hardly an explanation. What Catra really wanted to know was, why _now?_ Why not all the times Catra had begged her to try it when they were kids? And how often was she lighting up if she felt this comfortable going out stoned in public?

“I don’t,” was all she said.

An awkward silence set it in, and continued well past the point where Catra should have just walked away. But too many stupid questions rooted her feet to the ground. She wanted to ask about her first hit. She wanted to ask if that bike was really hers. She wanted to ask about _everything_ , all of the little changes--her hair, her tattoo, why she finally picked up guitar, when she got a fucking _girlfriend--_

Adora made a half annoyed, half flustered face, and cautiously extended her arm out into the space between them, holding the smoldering joint between her fingers.

Was she... offering her a smoke?

In half a second, the scenario played out in Catra’s mind. She could just... reach out and take it. Put the stick between her lips. Probably taste strawberry chapstick.

Catra swallowed.

“I’ll pass.”

“It’s just _weed_ , not a peace treaty--”

“No, I just, I don’t do that shit anymore,” Catra stammered without thinking.

Adora’s eyebrows shot up, like she was surprised, or impressed, or both.

“O...kay.”

She let her arm fall. Then she looked Catra over, deliberately.

“Weird beach outfit,” she smirked.

Catra looked down and realized she hadn’t yet changed out of her business casual clothes from work. She chuckled self-consciously.

“Blame Grayskull’s stupid dress code.”

Adora’s expression softened oddly at the statement. And that, more than anything else from this conversation, made Catra want to get the hell out of here.

“You’re working at--?”

“I should get this back to Entrapta,” Catra said quickly, turning to leave with the MIDI.

“Wait!”

Catra cringed. Couldn’t she just make it easy for once? She turned back around, against her better judgment.

“Will you... come see our set today?” Adora asked.

Oh. What?

Honestly, Catra had been so focused on avoiding her, the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. She supposed she might’ve, just to see how Rebellion stacked up against the other bands. But now she was... _inviting_ her?

Catra regarded her for a moment, not answering.

She pushed off the car and took a step closer. Then she reached for the joint in her hand.

Adora seemed unsure, but she yielded to her, tentatively, letting their fingers brush; and Catra had to stand there and pretend like a simple touch hadn’t just delivered a thousand volts of electricity to her long unbeating heart.

She twirled the stick around in her hand, savoring the fragrance.

Then she dropped it to the ground and smashed it with her shoe.

 _“Hey!”_ Adora yelped indignantly. “What--”

Catra kept her face completely serious. “It won’t count if you’re blazed when I beat you.”

She turned around so Adora wouldn’t see the grin breaking across her face and started back towards the crowded street.

“You--You’re _so--Ugh!”_

 

* * *

 

The acts went by in quick succession, one angry punk song blurring into the next with no real standouts.  Crowds came and went in waves throughout the day, each subsequent group of people looking more sunburned, exhausted, and unimpressed than the last. It was just Catra’s luck that Black Garnet would be one of the last bands to go… but at least she knew Adora would have the same problem.

“Who are these guys again?” Scorpia shouted over the noise, a horrified look on her face.

On stage was a screamo band made up of five huge shirtless men who looked like they had just stepped out of a WWE episode. The music was completely unintelligible noise. Catra’s brain was going numb.

“I think they’re called He-Man?” Catra shouted back.

“He what?”

“ _He-Man!”_

“What a stupid band name!” Lonnie yelled.

Catra laughed as the frontman shook up a beer can and sprayed it out on the people near the stage. Behind them, an oversized American flag was hanging up as part of their set.

“ _T_ _hat’s_ what you hate about them?”

“What?”

“I said--Nevermind!”

Their last song came to an end (thank God) and Catra and her bandmates made their way around the back of the stage to start moving their equipment. Peyton, the scout from earlier, was there giving directions to the stage techs. He turned as they walked over.

“It’s about time! You guys are on in thirty. Good luck.”

The band got to work helping the stage crew set up. Every minute that passed, the gravity of this moment became more and more real to Catra. Her bones were turning to lead, her heart was racing and her stomach churning. She could practice the music all she wanted, but she could have never prepared for this immense _pressure_ in her head. She was about to compete for the chance to get signed with _Etheria_ fucking _Records._

She had imagined this moment, or something like it, thousands of times. But in her head, it was never her responsibility… it was never Catra leading the show.

It was Adora.

But Adora wasn’t here.

No one was going to help her. And no one was going to save her if she fell.

The thought was equally paralyzing and empowering.

Suddenly, she felt a light punch on her arm, shaking her from her thoughts.

“Ready for this, Cat?” Lonnie asked.

Catra huffed as she lifted one of Entrapta’s heavy modified speakers.

“You think I’m not?”

She couldn’t show weakness. Not when her friends were depending on her.

“Yeah, I just mean… It’s cool if you’re nervous. This is the biggest crowd we’ve ever played for, and your first time singing…”

She smiled gently and Catra glared at her, still trying to mask her anxiety. Scorpia appeared next to them.

“She’s right, you know. You don’t have anything to prove up there. Even if you fail _miserably_ and crush all of our dreams, we’ll love you no matter what!”

“Okay, you guys _suck_ at pep talks.”

She saw the hug coming before it happened. Scorpia wrapped her up in a crushing embrace.

“Ugh! This is _not_ the time!

“You’re gonna kill it babe,” she said sincerely.

And all at once Catra’s exhaustion hit her. Not physical exhaustion, though there was some of that. She was just… tired.

Catra stopped fighting, for once, and just let the inevitable happen.

“...Thanks, Scorpia,” she mumbled into her shoulder.

She let go and beamed at her, just as Entrapta jumped down from the stage. “It’s all set! Ready when you guys are!”

The three of them looked at Catra, waiting for her command, and Catra looked back at all of them. And suddenly, she felt in her heart that there was no one else she’d rather be here with.

She nodded, determined.

“Let’s do this.”

 

* * *

 

Everything in Catra’s life had led her to this moment.

She gazed out at the sea of people surrounding the stage, their faces tired and disinterested. The evening sun beat harshly down on her. A white noise buzzed in her head, blocking out all other sounds. She reached for the microphone with shaking hands.

In spite of all the pain, the abuse, the heartache, here she was, competing for the chance to be a _literal_ rockstar. Just one breath away from everything she had always wanted… and she knew it was because that pain had made her stronger. It was a special, powerful kind of ammunition. One that Adora would _never_ understand.

A weight lifted off her shoulders as she finally realized something. She hadn’t come to L.A. for Adora like she once feared. She had come here to prove something to herself.

That she was strong.

That she was worth something.

That she had finally set herself free.

Catra’s hands stopped shaking. She lifted the microphone from the stand and took a breath, addressing the crowd with a passion and a confidence that she didn’t expect she would ever be capable of.

“What’s up, L.A.!”

There was some scattered applause. Catra had a script in mind but she decided to throw it out the window.

“We are Black Garnet and we hope our music sends you guys a message tonight… That no matter how many times the world fucks you over, no matter who tries to tell you you’re too stupid, too weak, too scared to be who you wanna be--you _never_ give up fighting for what you want. Because someday you’re gonna come back stronger than ever and kick everybody’s fucking ass.”

Catra slammed on her guitar and the crowd erupted in cheers as the band came in behind her for the first song. She absorbed a sudden flood of emotion, exhilaration and strength and rage, channeling it into her performance and letting herself forget about everything except the music flowing through her veins.

...

It all kind of passed in a blur.

When it was over, Catra wasn’t sure where she ended and the rest of the world began. The crowd was going mad, cheering for an encore, but... _geez_ , she was exhausted. Did she have to?

Entrapta must have read her mind, because she took it upon herself to let everyone down.

“Sorry, guys, encores are a _teensy_ bit against the rules! But you were the best crowd _ever!_ Come visit our merch table, goodnight!”

Catra’s vision warped and she felt a little lightheaded as they walked off stage together. The last thing she remembered was being caught in Scorpia’s arms.

 

* * *

 

Pounding…

Ugh, why was her head pounding?

Where was all that goddamn music coming from?...

Catra cracked her eyes open and felt a sudden rush of confusion. Then she remembered where she was.

She found herself lying in the cool shade of a medical tent, Lonnie sitting next to her. She shoved a water bottle in her face.

“Drink,” she commanded unceremoniously.

Catra groaned, clutching her head but taking the bottle gratefully.

“...The fuck? Did I pass out?”

“Yeah, dumbass. The EMT said you were dehydrated.”

Catra suddenly realized how dry her mouth was and downed the water in a few gulps.

“Sorry,” she apologized.

Lonnie smiled a little. “Shut up, it’s not your fault. You just went too hard up there… it was kind of awesome, though.”

Catra grinned back smugly. “Was that a _compliment_ , Lonnie? You’re making me blush.”

Lonnie’s face flatlined at the reference to a certain memory.

“We agreed to never bring that up,” she hissed.

“I didn’t agree to anythi--Ow!”

Lonnie ripped the IV line out of her arm and the sharp pain quickly sobered Catra. The EMT turned to glare at the two of them. Catra stood up and immediately regretted it.

“Uh, thank you, ma’am! We were just leaving,” she muttered, shoving Lonnie.

The two of them scrambled out from under the tent. The sun blinded Catra--a bright orange sphere sitting low on the horizon, casting shadows and a shimmering sunset glow across the beach. It was probably the dehydration talking, but Catra thought maybe the beach wasn’t such a bad place, after all.

Lonnie clapped a hand on her shoulder.

“You good?”

“Yeah. Thanks for staying with me, dude. Did we win? Where’s everybody else?”  

“I told them to man the merch table--we were getting fucking mobbed, Catra! It’s safe to say we made it the second round, at least.”

Catra’s heart leapt at her words.

“I mean, duh. Did you _hear_ those other bands?”

They started to wander out to the beach, where the merch tables were set up. But as they were walking, an odd sensation came over Catra.

It was as if she was being lured somewhere... but she didn’t know why.

Then suddenly, she realized what it was.

A voice.

Catra stopped walking.

 _Adora’s_ voice.

Just barely recognizable, distorted through speakers and the noise of the crowd. Yet it drew Catra’s attention like a siren’s call.

She remembered her invitation from earlier: _“Will you come see our set today?”_

Lonnie turned to look at her.

“What’s up?”

Couldn’t she hear it?

“I just remembered, there’s, uh, something I forgot at the stage. I’ll find you guys later, okay?”

Lonnie squinted at her. It was a shitty lie. But she just shrugged and tossed her another water bottle as she left.

“Alright, whatever. Don’t fucking pass out again!”

Catra smiled in relief and saluted her as she disappeared into the crowd. Then Catra whipped around to search for the source of the voice. She knew Rebellion was playing at some stage called Bright Moon, and she found it, looming in the distance by the skate park.

As she got closer, the music became clearer, the crowd’s energy insane, and she could see the band on stage… including, of course, Adora. She was holding the microphone with both bands, her guitar hanging around her neck, voice confident and alluring as she took the crowd through a slow verse of the song.

Catra always envied how easy she made it look. But she was surprised to find that envy was no longer the consuming fire it used to be. She almost felt like, maybe... they were on more equal footing, now.

Instead of attempting to navigate the mass of shit-faced teenagers, she hung back near the side of the crowd where she was less likely to be noticed from stage. The hot guitarist Catra had noticed at their gig a couple months back launched into an impressive solo, and afterwards, the song came to an end. The crowd was loud and energetic despite Rebellion being the last band to play tonight.

Catra crossed her arms. Obviously they’d be put through to the second round. She had expected that.

God, what was she even doing here?

“You guys are awesome! Thank you so much!” Adora’s voice echoed through the speakers. She took a minute to drink some water then jogged over to the keyboardist-- _Glimmer_ , Catra remembered--and said something in her ear. Catra squinted and looked away, jealousy scraping against her insides like a razor.

“We have one more song for you tonight, and actually, I’m a little embarrassed to play it,” Adora said into the microphone. “It’s inspired by something I wrote as a kid... But I think, when we’re young, we have a certain kind of wisdom, right? Hopes and dreams that we tend to lose touch with the older we get. So I wanna dedicate this song to that. And…” she laughed nervously. “And to the person who always inspired me to fight for it. I hope she’s listening.”

Catra blinked.

She couldn’t possibly mean…?

No. Definitely not. Catra had to stop assuming that she was even a blip on Adora’s radar.

Adora threw a nod to the drummer. They played through the first verse, then the chorus, and Catra grew more and more unsettled. It was impossible to make out the lyrics, but there was something oddly familiar about the melody. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was. It was like an image from a dream.

Then, suddenly, a memory slammed into Catra with the force of a ten ton truck.

Shakespeare. A purple room. Hesitant touches. Sky blue eyes... The sensation of free falling.

Holy shit… This song.

It was the one from that night. A night that Catra tried her best to block out of her memory.

Adora got to the last two lines of the second verse, and Catra didn’t have to strain her ears to understand it… because she was the one who wrote it. She whispered the lyrics under her breath as Adora sang.

“Your touch is like the air I breathe… your kiss... changes everything.”

Crippling agony flared inside Catra’s chest, like an old scar being ripped open.

The crowd, the heat, the blaring music, it all suddenly felt oppressive, unbearable. She wanted to vomit. She pushed her way out of the crowd, desperate for fresh air.

 _This_ is why Adora asked her to come?  

To, what? Reminisce on old times? To let her know what a sucker she was?

To make her relive her worst fucking nightmare as fresh as it had felt four years ago?

To tear down her defenses and force her to acknowledge that, no matter where she went, no matter what she did, no matter who she fucked… Nothing would ever change the fact that Catra was still wretchedly, hopelessly, pathetically in love with her.

God fucking dammit--

Catra smashed her water bottle on the ground, earning odd looks from passing strangers.

She _hated_ Adora... for so many things. She hated her for leaving, she hated her for pretending to care when she obviously _didn’t_ , she hated her stupid, arrogant face, how entitled she was, how oblivious. She _couldn’t_ love her. She couldn’t. Not after all this time, not after _everything_ Adora had done.

...And yet.

Catra became vaguely aware of an absence of sound, people starting to disperse around her. She took several slow, deep breaths, trying to regain her hold on reality.

It helped. A little.

What the hell was Adora playing at? Was this supposed to be some sort of an apology? A grand romantic gesture? Catra sneered at the thought, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that Adora had dedicated a song referencing their kiss to her. But she couldn’t have possibly meant… wasn’t Adora with her keyboardist…?

Catra peered up at the stage, anger surfacing above all other emotions.

There was only one way to find out for sure what Adora had been thinking.

 _Fuck me,_ Catra lamented in her head.

The shows today were over. The sun had just sunk below the horizon. Though the beach itself was crowded, there were only a few people left milling around, and they’d soon be gone as well. She had to do this now or she’d be distracted and furious all night, unable to focus on preparations for tomorrow.

Thankfully, Catra had a lot of practice faking confidence. She straightened her shoulders and marched up to the stage. If Adora thought singing a stupid song would miraculously make everything okay between them… she had another thing coming.

But when she turned the corner, she was both relieved and disappointed to find it nearly empty backstage. The only person there was the lead guitarist. She was sitting on the steps going up to the stage, practicing on an unplugged guitar.

Catra took a calming breath and strolled over to her.

“Uh, hey. Where’s Adora?”

The girl glanced up from her guitar with a tired, resigned look on her face. In spite of that, or maybe because of it, Catra couldn’t help noticing how pretty she was.

“You know, most fans at least _pretend_ to care about the rest of the band…”

Catra choked down a laugh. Apparently she wasn’t the only one jaded by Adora’s bullshit.

“But no,” she sighed. “She left for the night.”

No... fuck. _Seriously?_

Adora was a lot of things, but she wasn’t a _coward._ Was she really just going to drop a fucking bomb on her like that and then run away? As if Catra wasn’t stressed enough as it was... Now she was just going to lie awake in bed all night, uselessly attempting to dissect Adora’s motivations--

...Unless...

What she needed was a distraction, and, well, there was a conveniently attractive one sitting right in front of her.

Old habits die hard.

Catra put on her best charming smile. “Trust me, I know the feeling… Sorry, can I start over? What’s your name?”

The guitarist raised a suspicious eyebrow at her.

“Mermista. ...And you are?”

“Catra.”

She offered a hand and Mermista shook it, lingering.

“You’re Adora’s friend,” she surmised.

“Not... really the word I’d use.”

She sat down on the step next to her, regarding her with hooded eyes, making use of the skills she had mastered from years of picking up girls in bars.

“That last solo was something else, especially the bluesy lick in the middle. Did you write that?”

At last, the suspicion gave way to a blush. Like clockwork.

“Surprised someone noticed. You play?”

“Not well,” Catra lied, skimming a finger along the body of the guitar in admiration. “But maybe we can jam some time and you could show me some moves?”

Mermista smirked, amused. “You’re forward.”

Catra couldn’t deny this woman was piquing her interest. She returned the flirtatious smile, leaning into her space.

“Is it working?”

“...Catra?”

She froze at the sound of an all too familiar voice.

 _Shit_.

Catra sprung away from the girl and turned her head to see Adora standing a few feet away with a stupefied expression on her face. How much of that had she heard?

Part of her wanted to laugh and part of her wanted to die, but instead she just sat there like a deer in the headlights.

“Hey, Adora! I was, uh, looking for you.”

With great effort, Adora forced a smile. “Were you?”

Catra was at a loss for words. Mermista glanced back and forth between them.

“Cool. Well, I’m going to go... somewhere else that isn’t here,” Mermista stated. She took her guitar and disappeared around the corner, leaving Catra and Adora alone.

“I can’t believe you,” Adora chuckled, turning away like she had given up on the conversation before it had even begun. Catra leapt to her feet, following her. They ended up in a secluded spot behind the stage.

“Would you chill? I didn’t do anything!”

“But you were _going_ to! After I just--” she cut herself off, face turning red.

Catra felt a familiar rage swirling inside her, but it was laced with something else, something… warmer. After four years, she had forgotten how stirring Adora’s jealousy tended to backfire on her. She could hardly remember what she came here to confront her for.

“Yeah, what was _that_ all about?”

“I thought you’d--I wanted to--I don’t know. I don’t _know_ , okay? I just can’t stand this anymore! I _miss_ you, Catra. I just... wish I could make things go back to the way they were.”

The same agony from before throbbed dully in her chest. The way they were? She wanted to go back to Catra prostrated before her like a servant before a master, crushing herself down into a little box just to feel worthy of her presence?

(Was it masochistic that maybe a part of Catra wanted that, too?)

Adora laughed grimly, gesturing to the stairs where Catra had been sitting with her bandmate.

“Clearly that’s not what you want, so.”

Catra shook her head in amazement.

“Why does it bother you! Aren’t you dating that radioactive Disney star of a--what was her name? Glitter?”

“ _Glimmer,”_ Adora fumed. “And... we broke it off. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Oh _really?_

Catra shows up, and two months later, Adora’s single? Maybe it was a coincidence, but still, she couldn’t help feeling smug.

“Good. She seemed like a bitch.”

Genuine indignation filled Adora’s eyes. She stepped closer to Catra, the force of her reaction causing her to take a step backwards.

“You have _no_ right to say _anything_ about her, Catra. You know why? Because she was there for me when you _weren’t.”_

Her unexpected admission stung like a slap across the face. “...What?”

Adora grit her teeth, struggling to control her voice.

“When I was broken and alone, Glimmer was the one who picked up the pieces. So if you’re gonna be angry at someone, it should be _yourself_ , asshole.”

 _Broken and alone?_ Catra’s head swirled. Whenever she had thought of Adora in Boston, she imagined her surrounded by friends, pursuing work that made her happy. It served to fuel Catra’s hatred, but… maybe it wasn’t such an accurate picture. She had always been so caught up in her _own_ pain, she had never thought twice about Adora’s. She never realized...

But fuck it--it didn’t _matter._ Adora couldn’t seriously make her _sympathize_ with her, as if it wasn’t her decision to leave in the first place! She wanted freedom, and she fucking got it. Now, what? She blamed Catra for breaking the chains?

“This is bullshit, Adora. You don’t get to make me feel guilty for your mistakes.” She stepped back with a laugh. “You can’t just sing a song and expect everything to be fixed between us. You _left_ me,” she blurted, voice breaking.

“I _didn’t!_ ”

Catra stared at her incredulously. “Do you have amnesia?!”

“Oh my god--if you would just _listen_ to me for two seconds! I loved you, Catra,” she said.

Catra’s blood ran cold. She knew she didn’t mean it like _that._ They’ve said those words to each other a million times before. But it was different, now. Everything was different.

“I moved away, yeah,” she continued. “But I didn’t _leave_ you. _You_ cut _me_ out!”

“That doesn’t make any sense! What did you think was going to happen?!”

“I don’t know! I thought… we’d see each other on breaks, hang out in the summer… then we’d move out here together, like we always planned.” She tried to smile, but it wavered. “I didn’t expect you to hate me so much for it.”

As she spoke, a burning fire grew inside Catra. Not of anger, exactly, but just… _emotion_. A horrible, excruciating mess of hate and love and pain and betrayal and _longing_.

“Don’t you dare turn this around on me,” she said slowly, a pressure building inside her.

“I’m _not_ , but I won’t apologize for chasing my dreams--”

 _“You_ were my dream!”

...

Catra’s outburst shocked them both.

Heat rushed to her face as the reality of her own vulnerability sank in. Adora stared at her in surprise, but eventually, her real reaction became clear--one Catra was intimately familiar with.

_Pity._

Oh, no. No way. That was _not_ happening.

“Catra…” she whispered.

The longer this conversation went on, the deeper Catra was digging her own grave. She had to do something, anything, to regain her control of this situation. And in the heat of the moment, only one thing came to mind.

She quickly surveyed their surroundings.

“Hey!--”

She pushed Adora into a hidden corner behind the stage, where, in the falling darkness of night, they were invisible to everyone but each other. Her palm lingered against the muscle of Adora’s stomach, warm skin exposed by the crop top.

Catra suddenly felt feverish.

“Wh-What are you--”

“Just shut up, Adora.”

Surprisingly, Adora obeyed. Catra held her gaze and gently scraped her nails down her abs. Then she got to the belt buckle. She grabbed hold of it and watched as Adora’s eyes dilated noticeably, betraying her otherwise hostile demeanor.

Very slowly... Catra undid the belt.

Adora clenched her jaw but said nothing--she was barely breathing, and the silence made Catra hesitate. She didn’t need to hear her _beg_ , exactly… but just to fucking admit it. That she _wanted_ this. It had to be a deliberate decision. Catra’s eyes fell to her lips as she finished with the belt and started to unbutton her jeans.

“Tell me what you want,” she murmured.

The only response was an attractive blush coloring Adora’s face. They stared at each other as seconds passed in silence, anger and longing warring in her eyes. 

Then, Adora reached for her hand. She was half expecting her to pull it away, but instead...

She guided it lower.

A deep warmth rushed through Catra, unlike anything she had ever felt. She had experience with lust, she thought she knew what it was--but this? This wasn't lust. It was a saltwater oasis in a desert. It was death tempting her tortured soul with paradise.

She slipped her fingers below the waistband of Adora’s briefs and everything around her fractured into starlight.

Adora surrendered to her all at once, her body melting into Catra, head dropping back, mouth falling open, face twisting with a pleasure so intense it mimicked pain. The urge to kiss her was overwhelming… but something held her back. She just couldn’t face the intimacy of it (which was ironic, considering). She chose instead to press her open mouth hotly against Adora’s neck, and a soft moan escaped her, her breath shaky. Catra couldn’t tell the difference between illusion and reality anymore. Her touches were light, teasing, trying to draw this out as long as possible; and honestly she wasn’t sure where the self control came from--her desire was burning her alive. It didn’t seem to make a difference, anyway, with how aroused Adora already was.

Catra brought her lips to the shell of her ear.

“Do you think we’re _friends_ , Adora?” she growled, increasing the pressure and the pace, “you think you can just say you miss me and I’ll come crawling back to you like an idiot?”

“No--God-- _Catra_ ,” she moaned, the sound masked by the din of the ocean. She wrapped both arms around her, clutching her desperately, like Catra was all that tethered her to the earth now. It was a mutual feeling.

“You think you can just... throw me away? Replace me? Like there was never anything between us?"

“That’s not-- _oh fuck, don’t stop_ \--”

She pulled Catra’s body flush against hers, too far gone to argue, and Catra sensed she was close. She slowed her movements, sped up again, caught her earlobe between her teeth, completely intoxicated by the way Adora’s body responded and the absolute power she held over her in this moment.

 _Power… that’s what this is,_ she thought, a bolt of clarity cutting through the drunken haze in her head.

This wasn’t about passion...

It was about getting even.

Catra eased up, pulling her away from the edge, then started building her towards it again, slowly, this time. It drew a restrained moan from Adora. She was holding back and Catra hated it.

 _“_ Please _,_ just...”

“Just what?” she teased darkly.

“ _Dammit_ , Catra--”

But her words broke off and her breath quickened and Catra had a decision to make.

Instead of giving her the release they both desperately needed, Catra mustered every ounce of will power she had…

And ripped her hand away.

...

She took a couple of steps backwards, glaring up at Adora with a wicked, victorious smirk.

...The look on her face?

Absolutely _priceless._

Catra made a show of thoughtfully examining her glistening fingers. She brought them to her mouth, flicking her tongue against one as she met Adora’s glazed, chagrined eyes.

And if the image of her--flushed, ravenous, at her mercy--didn’t haunt Catra for the rest of her life, then the taste of her _definitely_ would.  But that was a problem she could deal with later.

Right now, it was worth it.

Catra straightened herself with feigned indifference.

“As fun as this was… I have a show to prepare for tomorrow.”

She bit her lip, committing Adora’s flustered appearance to memory as her lust slowly transformed into fury.

“See you around, Adora.”

Catra turned and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for sticking with this fic!! I know the updates are stupidly slow and inconsistent. I'm taking the MCAT in April so I am VERY stressed and busy lmao. It will probably be a while before the next chapter is out but hopefully that last scene will hold you out til then, xoxox


	5. Crushed black and blue, but I'd do it all again for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 4 summary: Black Garnet and Rebellion both made it through the first round of the Battle of the Bands, and Catra found fulfillment in her friendships and her new role as frontman. After the show, Adora pushed Catra to confront feelings she was not yet ready to. They shared a passionate moment but Catra used it to get revenge for her heartbreak four years ago.

_\- Adora’s Perspective -_

 

 _Do you think we’re_ friends, _Adora?_  
  
Vague emotions and images swirled in Adora’s mind, but those words stood out clearly. She felt hot and sweaty and she needed something, desperately, but she didn’t know what—it was just beyond her reach and it was driving her _insane_.  
  
Suddenly a noise from downstairs jolted her awake. Adora realized she was lying in her bed. Morning light was streaming in, birds chirping outside her window. And the girl she had dreamt of was long gone... nothing but a remnant of a ghost. The heat swirling in her stomach crept up into her chest where it clawed humiliation and self-hatred out of the depths of her subconscious, leaving her bloody and ragged. But it didn’t stop her fingers from trailing down her abdomen, the touch evoking a rush of vivid memories--how just hours earlier Catra had her pressed against a wall, body warm, her lips soft on her neck, and her  _hand--_

_Shit._

This was exactly what Catra wanted, wasn’t it? To screw with her, distract her from the competition. God, she was going to be stuck in this haze all fucking day. How could she focus on performing when…?

She closed her eyes and could almost  _feel_ Catra’s breath on her ear, could almost imagine it was Catra’s hand instead of her own as she let it drift lower, and lower--

She groaned and clenched it into a fist. 

Screw that. She would not let Catra have that kind of power over her. 

Instead she reached blindly for the half-smoked joint sitting on her bedside table. The sound of her bandmates getting ready downstairs grated on already frayed nerves as she stroked a thumb along the lighter’s spark wheel. A bright flame ignited.

The laughter, the happy music, the clink of dishes. It was all just so… normal. 

She brought the fire to the tip of the paper, letting it catch and watching the smoke rise from the ember, the familiar smell already relaxing her. 

The world was moving forward but Adora felt like she was spinning in reverse. Everything she had now, this whole life, she had built it all from scratch. She’d extracted the color from an empty canvas and painted something beautiful on it. She had found _real_ happiness again. With Glimmer, Bow, everyone... Adora actually felt like she had a family again.

She brought the joint to her lips and inhaled deeply, the sharp burn of the smoke filling her with more relief than Denver’s mountain air (or maybe she had just forgotten what it felt like).

And then Catra showed up and suddenly it was all fading away again. Slipping through her fingers like it never mattered at all. Because Catra was... an explosion of light, of colors that didn’t even exist. She was blinding. Even when Adora hated her, she was all she could see. Everything else paled in comparison. How was she supposed to go back to her normal life after _tasting_ that?

Adora stared blankly up at the ceiling, fingernails digging into her palms, willing the numbness to kick in faster.

 

* * *

 

“Morning!--Oh, yikes,” Glimmer said as Adora shuffled down the stairs, waving a hand in front of her nose. “You okay, Adora? Isn’t it kind of early for--”

“I’m great! Just, you know, stressed about today,” Adora lied. She slipped her fingers through Glimmer’s hair, trying and failing to suppress giggles. “Wow… your hair is pink.”

“It is?” Glimmer laughed. “Why didn’t anyone tell me!”

Glimmer’s bright smile helped bring Adora back down to Earth. Her hand slid down to her cheek and her skin was soft and warm and felt so  _nice_. So easy. It brought a little color back into Adora’s world. But then Glimmer was pulling away from her.

“Bow’s making pancakes!” she sang as she walked towards the door. “Get some food and let me know if you need anything, okay? You’ve got a couple hours before we gotta leave.”

Adora slumped as she watched her walk away and then looked around at the bustling activity in the living room. Frosta and Perfuma were busy packing up equipment. Mermista was concentrating on troubleshooting her pedalboard (and carefully avoiding eye contact with Adora). Bow was in the kitchen singing off-key to a weird new song on the radio.

“I’d get a thousand hugs from ten thousand lightning bugs… oh, hi Adora!” 

He turned to greet her, face lighting up. He was wearing the t-shirt she’d gotten him for his birthday: black with stripes of trans pride colors. It made her feel like crying all of a sudden but that was probably just the weed.

“Blueberry or chocolate chip?”

“Wow... have I told you I love you? And you’re the _best_ unofficial manager  _ever?”_

Bow chuckled as he handed her a plate stacked with heart-shaped pancakes, two of each kind. “Sometimes, when you’re high. But I’ll take what I can get!”

“I’ll tell you every day from now on,” Adora vowed seriously, smushing his cheeks together. He pushed her away with a laugh.

Rejected, she sat down at the dining table and started shoveling breakfast in her mouth. It sobered her a little but not enough to prevent a shock of paranoia when, a few minutes later, Mermista took the stool next to hers.

She didn't say anything, just glanced briefly at Adora and took a sip of her coffee, apparently waiting to gauge where they stood with each other.

“What’s up?” Adora ventured around a mouthful of food.

“Look, Adora, about last night--”

“Psh, it's fiiine! I couldn't care less," she waved her off, though inside her gut twisted at the memory of seeing Catra's hand on her thigh. 

Her bandmate cocked an eyebrow. “Really? Because it seemed like--”

“Yep! Don’t even worry about it.”

She stabbed aggressively at a piece of pancake and stuck it in her mouth, wishing she’d just leave it alone. It wasn’t  _Mermista_ she was pissed at. Actually, if she hadn’t interrupted them, Mermista probably would’ve been doing her a favor that night.

“Right..." Mermista said dryly. "What's the deal with you guys?"

Adora shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn’t know why the idea of telling her friends about Catra terrified her so much. Things between them were just so messed up--she didn’t think she could explain it without sounding insane. Or maybe she just knew they’d try to talk her out of seeing Catra again, and she wasn’t ready to face that.

“There’s not much to say, I mean. I moved away, we stopped talking. Normal friends-drifting-apart stuff.”

As if in disagreement, the memory of Catra’s hand between her legs flashed through her mind. Adora almost choked. 

“If you say so. At least In a couple days, we’ll be outta here with that recording contract, yeah? Trust me, you'll forget all about her."

Adora forced a smile. She was trying not to think about it, but there was a very real possibility that today would be the last time she'd ever see Catra if they got kicked from the competition. Even worse, if only one of them made it through. 

“Sure, yeah. Thanks, Mermista."

She put her fork down, not really hungry anymore. An awkward silence settled over them. 

“Anyway... glad we worked that out and all but I actually came over here for coffee, so…”

Barely hearing her, Adora stared down at her plate, lost in thought. When she looked up again, several hours had passed in a daze, and there were fingers snapping in front of her face.

 _“Hello?_  Earth to Adora?”

She frowned and knocked the hand away.

“Geez--Glimmer! What?”

They were sitting on the steps behind Bright Moon stage, reviewing last-minute details for their set while waiting for the signal to go on. A few feet away, the rest of the band stood looking out at the crowd with crossed arms and nervous faces. 

“You’ve been distracted all day!” Glimmer whined. “What’s up with you? It’s not like this is the most important show of our lives or anything.”

Adora was about to defend herself until she saw the anxiety etched on Glimmer’s face. She sighed, abruptly overwhelmed with shame. She’d been letting whatever was going on with Catra get in the way of her _real_ priority--making music. It was the same tug-of-war that started this whole mess, the reason she left Denver in the first place. And now with Catra distracting her, and the uncertainty of Rebellion’s future in this competition, Adora felt like she wasn’t in control of anything anymore. The terror gripping her must have shown in her eyes because Glimmer immediately dropped the sarcasm and reached for her hand. 

“Crap, Glimmer, I’m really, really sorry--”

“Whoa, hey,” Glimmer smiled. “You’re fine, but… seriously, Adora, what’s going on? You know you can talk to me.”

Her concern was so sweet, and Adora was losing her grip on her sanity, and for a second she really almost cracked and told her everything. Almost.

“I’m just so afraid of failing you guys,” Adora started. At least it wasn’t a total lie. “You brought me into this band. You gave me a family when I didn’t have one. Now this is our chance at really making it and I just feel like I’m screwing everything up--”

Glimmer pulled her in for a hug. At this point, it was the only thing holding her together.

“Adora… you _are_ family to us, and not just because you’re an amazing frontman. No matter what happens today, we’ll still love you! You gotta trust that your band has your back, okay?”

Glimmer would never know the depth to which her reassurance touched Adora in that moment. She found herself smiling genuinely for the first time all day. 

“Thanks, Glim. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Thankfully you’ll never have to find out! Now come on.” She hopped to her feet and offered a hand to Adora. “We’ve got a record deal to win.”

Adora let Glimmer pull her up and the two of them joined the rest of the band. Since there were only thirty groups left in the battle, the crowd at their stage was twice as big as yesterday. She caught herself scanning the audience for Catra and forced herself to look away. She was ready for this and she wouldn’t let anything distract her from winning.

“Rebellion, you’re on in one minute!” a stage worker called out.

Adora’s heart rate picked up. This was real. This was happening. 

“Oh, hey, Adora’s back from planet Mars,” Mermista remarked fondly when she noticed her.

“Adora!” Bow said desperately. “ _Please_ help, I tried doing one of your speeches to raise morale but I think I made Perfuma _cry.”_

Adora shared a look with Glimmer and cleared her throat. She wasn’t really sure what to say. Usually she would give a speech about how prepared they were, how they were going to win this record deal and not because of luck, but because they had _earned_ it through years of hard work. But something different was tugging at Adora’s heart today and she thought the band might benefit from hearing it, too. 

“Okay, guys. I know we’re all a little nervous. Five bands and only one of us is going on to the final six. But I want to say, whatever happens… I’m just glad I got to do this with you all.”

“Who bodysnatched her?” Frosta whispered, but she ignored it.

“Do you remember why we came to this city? Sure, we wanted to get signed, go on tour. But more than anything we just wanted to make music together! So forget the crowds and the record deals. Just being here with you guys is a dream come true. Win or lose, let’s go out there, kick some ass, and make this show one that we’ll never forget.”

Adora wasn’t sure how much she actually believed in what she was saying. But looking around at all her friends, their smiles and determined nods, she knew they had something special together. And it really did make her happy. It could make her happy.

Just then, a voice echoed through the stage speakers--

“Please welcome our next band up to the stage: Rebellion!”

 

* * *

 

Adora uncapped a black Sharpie with her teeth and scribbled her autograph across a Rebellion t-shirt before handing it back to a fan. 

“Thanks so much for coming out to see us!”

“Yeah, for sure! We’re rooting for Rebellion all the way,” the girls smiled brightly.

“Adoraaa,” Glimmer groaned as she took money from another fan. “Put that thing down and help us!” 

Adora grinned and jumped back up on the table to sit with her ukelele. They were surrounded by a half-circle of people waiting to meet the band.

“She is helping!” Bow chimed in. “She’s bringing in customers!” 

“Being the band heartthrob does _not_ exempt her from work,” Glimmer grumbled.

“Pretty sure it does,” Adora sang, flexing a little to make her point. Glimmer rolled her eyes and turned to greet a new fan. 

Their set had been a total hit with the audience and Adora was high off their success. Since they wouldn’t get the news until later about whether they’d live to see another day, the band was making the most of their time in Venice Beach by selling merch and talking with fans. Adora just wanted to soak it all in--the sunshine, the crowds, the chance to spend a beautiful day with her best friends in the world. 

“How does that Nevershoutnever song go...” she wondered aloud. She experimented with different chord progressions until she found one that clicked and started strumming a simple, happy melody, letting her voice ring out across the busy street. 

 

_I’m in trouble, I’m an addict_

_I’m addicted to this girl_

_She’s got my heart tied in a knot_

_And my stomach in a whirl_

_And even worse, I can’t stop calling her_

 

“She’s all I want and more, I mean, damn...”

A familiar voice joined in with hers and Adora accidentally strummed her uke so hard that one of the strings broke with a loud _snap._

The culprit stepped out from the crowd and locked eyes with Adora, a sadistic smirk on her face.

“Ouch. You might wanna get that looked at,” Catra mocked, nodding at the uke. 

Adora could hardly catch her breath, her heart beating a hundred miles an hour--made worse by the fact that everyone’s questioning eyes were trained on her. 

Shit. Fuck. What she wouldn’t give to just turn invisible right now--

“Uh, okay!” Glimmer exclaimed. “Show’s over! Sorry everyone.”

“Glimmer, no--!” Adora hissed, but the crowd was already dispersing. Glimmer gestured with her hands as if to say _well what did you want me to do?_

...And then it was just the four of them. 

“Hey, Adora,” Catra grinned, teeth glinting in a predatory kind of way.

She was dressed in a Black Garnet tank top and cut off shorts, a flannel tied around her waist. And man, she was _glowing._ Adora had never seen Catra standing so tall before and it was all so... infuriating. 

(Definitely _not_ attractive).

“Um… hey,” she said lamely as Catra strolled up to the table. She ran a hand through a mess of chocolate-colored curls and Adora hated all the little things that sent spikes of longing through her heart. 

“You guys are still here, huh? Thought you would’ve cut your losses by now.”

Adora scowled at the ground, self-conscious, anger swirling inside her. Apparently there was nothing that could derail Catra’s obsession with beating her in this competition… not even knowing how Adora felt about her.

“If you think you have any shot at winning this, you’re _seriously_ delusional.”

Before she could respond, Glimmer stepped up to defend her once again.

“Back off, Catra!” she threatened.

Adora looked up to see malice flashing in Catra’s eyes, but oddly enough it left as quickly as it came. She glanced back and forth between Adora and Glimmer, looking uncertain for some reason. There wasn’t even a witty comeback.

Adora straightened up and touched Glimmer’s shoulder reassuringly. “Thanks, but I got this.”  

Then she turned to glare at Catra. As humiliated as Adora felt, she tried to remember that it wasn’t _her_ who had initiated things last night… and that thought gave her a burst of confidence. She was sick and tired of Catra fucking with her head. Ever since they’d run into each other it seemed like the only thing Catra cared about was playing games, establishing some kind of weird dominance over her. Well, maybe Catra had revealed a weakness of her own.

Adora jumped down from the table to stand face to face with her, dragging her eyes down her figure. She didn’t miss how Catra took an unconscious step backward.

“Do you want something, Catra?” she asked, a smile playing at her lips.

Catra’s own smirk wavered slightly.

“Just offering my condolences,” she drawled. “I was looking forward to kicking your ass in the final six. But it looks like I won’t get the chance. Not after _that_ lousy performance.”

Adora just scoffed, surprised Catra had even bothered to come watch her play. Her tone changed from indifferent to teasing. 

“You seemed a little distracted up there, princess... Something on your mind?”

 _Ugh--_ Her arrogance was unreal. And so completely removed from reality.

“Really, Catra?” Adora moved closer into her space. “You aren’t fooling anyone with this whole ‘cool and aloof’ act. I _saw_ the way you looked at me last night,” she challenged, and it wiped the smirk from Catra’s mouth. The confirmation made Adora’s pulse spike. “...So give it up already.”

Catra glared at her, and it became a silent contest to see who would break first.

“Come find me,” Catra said. “After my set.”

Adora felt her expression slacken. “...Huh?”

Catra glanced past her shoulder, where Glimmer and Bow were sitting. Then she looked down between their bodies. Adora followed her gaze and watched as Catra reached out and stealthily slipped a finger through one of Adora’s belt loops. It ignited a blazing fire inside of her.

Catra bit her lip and colorful eyes returned to hers, lids lowered.

“Did you think I was done with you?”

“I…”

Adora was speechless. Catra watched her struggle with growing amusement, then, without another word, she turned around and disappeared back into the crowd.

Adora stood staring blankly at the space she had left vacant, unable to really grasp anything that had just happened.

Except that Catra wanted Adora to come find her.

“Adora?” she heard Glimmer call from behind.

She spun around abruptly and bounced over to them, mind racing.

“Hey, sooo. Will you guys be okay here? There’s just, ah… something I need to…"

“Absolutely not!” Glimmer interjected. “I know what you’re thinking and I am _not_ letting you go to that asshole’s show by yourself.”

Bow threw an arm around Glimmer’s shoulders. “What Glimmer _meant_ to say was… we hope you can work things out with your friend, Adora. And if you want backup, we’re here for you. Right?"

Glimmer huffed but deflated. Adora smiled at them gratefully. 

“Thank you, guys. Really. But I think this is something I need to do on my own.”

Not least of all because Catra had made her intentions with her pretty clear... But Adora had a somewhat different plan in mind. She said goodbye to her friends and started toward Black Garnet’s stage.

 

* * *

 

Catra was much the same on stage as she was off.

Cocky. Passionate. Charismatic. Angry and explosive with every move, every note she sang. While the rest of the band was taking breaks in between songs Catra was riling the crowd up, fighting to make the most of every second she had, relentless like she had something to prove. She expertly shaped the audience to her will, wielding her guitar like a weapon with her bandmates following in lockstep--you would’ve thought she’d been a frontman her whole life. She was a natural leader. A force of nature. Adora couldn’t take her eyes off of her. 

Had Catra always been this... breathtaking? Or had Adora just never noticed? 

It wasn’t just her stage presence. It was her lyrics, too. Standing close to the speakers, Adora was able to make out phrases here and there against a dissonant background of heavy guitar and drums. And there was just something… different about them. Adora’s writing style had often clashed with Catra’s back in high school--Adora preferred more optimistic themes while Catra usually stuck to cynical teen angst. But her songs today weren’t destructive.

They were almost... _hopeful_. Inspiring.

Adora couldn’t believe the woman on stage now was the same girl who used to fall asleep listening to Linkin Park; who once skipped band practice to paint her bedroom black; who used to balk at the idea of subbing in as lead vocalist when Adora was sick. Looking at her now, she seemed to Adora like an entirely new person--

Someone suddenly slammed into her, crushing her between two big, sweaty bodies. The whole crowd swelled outward and adrenaline pulsed through her as she fought to stay on her feet, shoving people off her. Ugh, she _hated_ mosh pits. And now she was right on the edge of one. Fucking Catra.

It was a whirlwind of energy, the music filling everyone with something visceral, primal--something they could lose themselves in, revolt against the order of society. Adora couldn’t stand it. She took hit after hit, shoving people back to protect the smaller girls beside her. The physical onslaught made her mind and body disconnect, and the faces of her ex-bandmates flashed through her head.

Catra, Scorpia, Lonnie, Entrapta… Her closest childhood friends, making music together on stage while Adora stood alone, swallowed up in a crowd of strangers screaming the lyrics to their songs. Lyrics full of heart whereas Adora’s were constructed with theory. Doubts crept quietly, darkly in the back of her mind as she fended off another mosher. Like why she had ever left her home behind. What she thought she was going to find at college that she hadn’t already had. Money? Success? Happiness? How different would her life be now had she stayed in Denver?

She could picture it so clearly, a different timeline, a different universe, where she and Catra were up on that stage together. 

Instead of on separate ones.

Another smelly body nearly pushed her off her feet, but instinct took over and she knocked them back into the pit. 

Instead of having arguments, and betrayals, and broken hearts. 

Another hit. Another shove.

Instead of screwing around in dark, secret corners and having her affection twisted into ammunition for revenge. But god, maybe she deserved it--

Fighting back the temptation to lose herself in the violence, Adora turned and squeezed through the wall of bodies, trying to escape the suffocating mass of skin and sweat, her heart pounding with anxiety. And in it all Catra’s voice rang in her ears, in the music and in her own head. 

_Daddy’s little princess_

_It’s not like we’re girlfriends or something_

_You don’t belong here anymore, Adora. Go back to Boston._

After what felt like hours, Adora finally broke through to a quieter section of the crowd, gasping for breath. 

The sun had dipped below the horizon and pink clouds drifted peacefully above… a strange contrast to the chaos that had just been raging around her. In the distance, she could just make out the sign for Bright Moon stage, and memories from earlier today flooded her thoughts. She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing hard on the steadiness of Glimmer’s voice, her hand grasping Adora’s like a tether. 

_Adora, you are family to us._

She repeated it in her head like a mantra, trying to drown out everything else.

Rebellion _was_ her family now. Her new bandmates had been there for her when no one else was, they had supported her in one of the darkest times in her life, they had loved her when she didn’t even love herself. And they made her happy. _S_ _he was happy._

It was something she’d been trying to convince herself of for the past four years, but now it was unraveling faster than she could even fathom. The worst part was that she knew the reason why. 

On stage, Catra was awe-inspiring, shredding on her Gibson with a euphoric grin that lit up all of Los Angeles; and Adora thought distantly that she knew how Icarus must have felt when his wings were melting under the heat of the sun. Happiness had been right in front of her her whole life… she had just been too blinded by ambition to see it. And now it was too late. 

Even if Catra _wanted_ to be friends, Adora would have to be an idiot to think they could ever go back to the way things were. That trust was forever broken. Whatever Catra’s intentions were with her tonight, it wasn’t about love. Catra wanted to _break_ Adora, just like she had broken Catra. And Adora had all but volunteered for it. But if this really was the last night they would ever see each other… if this was Adora’s last chance to talk to Catra, she couldn’t let it end like this. With lust and regret and her own heart shattered beyond repair. No. What Adora needed was _closure._ They both did. And if they couldn’t leave as friends, Adora had hope that, at the least, they could walk away from this competition as something a little more than enemies. They could both heal from the past... and move on.

No matter what Catra said or did now, Adora couldn’t give in to her feelings. She had to put an end to this war. Tonight.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, the show had finished and the last band for the night was setting up new equipment. Adora worked her way over to the stage, reciting a mental script as she walked. 

_“Adora?”_

She turned around to find an old friend standing with her arms crossed, unsmiling.  Adora, however, couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. 

“Lonnie?!” she laughed. “Holy crap!”

Lonnie had changed a _lot_ in the past few years. Gone were the glasses, the slumped posture, the emo fashion statements. The overall air of teenage rebellion still clung heavily to her. They’d both grown up so much, yet it was as if no time had passed at all.

“You’re not pissed at me, are you? I know I should’ve come to see you sooner--”

“Save it, Adora,” she said indifferently. “We both know you weren’t going to. You’re here to see Catra.”

Adora paled. “That’s not true! I mean… okay, it’s kind of true. But not the first part! I really--you don’t know how much I missed you. All of you.”

Tears pricked at her eyes and she couldn’t seem to find the right words.

“You look amazing, seriously, and your drumming? Dude, it blew me away... It’s really so great to see you.”

Lonnie regarded her for an uncomfortable moment, then she uncrossed her arms and the corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile. 

“Hell yeah, I’m pissed at you!” Lonnie chuckled. She scratched her neck and let out a sigh. “Maybe not. I don’t know. I guess I never _really_ expected us all to stay friends after high school.”

“...You didn’t?” Adora asked gently.

“Nah, I mean. We were just kids. Making big plans when we didn’t know shit about the world. I can’t blame you for figuring out that sooner than the rest of us. We grew up, we grew apart, whatever. That’s life, right?”

Adora didn’t know how to feel. Lonnie’s forgiveness was overwhelming and much more than she deserved. She smiled sadly, feeling like a weight had been lifted off her.

“Thanks, Lonnie.”

Lonnie shrugged, but then she fixed Adora with a serious look. 

“Listen. I don’t know what’s going on with you and Catra, but... if you’re not serious about it, you gotta stop leading her on. The girl’s losing her damn mind.”

Adora laughed once. _She_ was leading _Catra_ on? Was Lonnie kidding?

“Wait, really? What do you, uh, what do you mean?”

“Nothing, just--take it easy on her, alright? Anyway, I gotta catch up with Scorpia, so. Maybe I’ll see you at the finale tomorrow?” she smirked, turning to go.

“Lonnie!” Adora called. “Do you know where she is? Catra?”

Lonnie rolled her eyes and jerked her thumb at the stage. “She’s still packing up. Remember what I said, dude.”

“I will.” As if she could forget it. “I’ll… text you later?” 

“Yeah, cool,” Lonnie grinned. 

They said goodbye, and Adora felt like maybe things were looking up, for once. Maybe this was a sign that she _could_ make things okay with Catra. 

She took a deep breath, turned back to the stage, and resisted the urge to pray for a hurricane to sweep them all away.

_Okay, Adora, relax. You can do this. It’s just Catra._

She started navigating through the crowd, and when she finally got to the platform, what she saw made her stomach drop. 

She’d expected to find Catra mingling with fans, celebrating the success of the show. But instead, she was standing by herself near the side of the stage, a phone pressed to her ear, passersby giving her a wide berth. She had an ashen complexion and a sick, horrified smile plastered on her face. Adora had never seen her wear an expression like that before. A protective instinct took over and she took a step toward her, confrontation long forgotten.


	6. Hello there, the angel from my nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 5 summary: Adora struggled to process the hook up. It brought up doubts about herself, her relationships, and whether she was truly happy, but she tried to hold onto the love and support that she had found in her bandmates. Catra invited her for a second round, but Adora decided they needed closure instead and went to talk to her.

_\- Catra’s Perspective -_

 

“I better see you at Larry’s later!” 

Catra grinned at the girl before watching her walk off into the falling darkness of night.

“You will!”

...She wouldn’t. 

But agreeing was the easiest way to get her to leave. Catra’s smile faded and she rubbed her face with both hands, turning back to the cords she’d been stuffing in a bag. She wasn’t even _tempted_ by alcohol anymore, or random hookups. What the hell was happening to her?

Whatever. Nothing in the world could bring her down from this high. Even if Black Garnet didn’t make it to the next round, the exposure they had gotten from this battle could really propel them forward. Not to mention all the management training Catra had been getting at her Grayskull internship. If they could capitalize on this momentum, the band could really... _be_ something! She felt like her dreams weren’t so far away anymore. 

She finished packing up and checked the time on her phone again. It was 8:20pm and the next band was scheduled to go on at 8:30. She walked over to the side of the stage where a new group of fans was gathering. She didn’t know what she expected to see in the crowd. Her own stupidity, maybe. She ran a hand through her hair nervously, pacing back and forth, weighing the pros and cons of sticking around for another ten minutes.  Shit, maybe she _should_ go meet up with those girls at the bar--save what little dignity she had left. No one was fucking worth this.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she answered quickly, expecting it to be Scorpia telling her to get her ass over to the merch table. 

“Yeah, what?” she snapped.

“Is this a bad time?”

Catra stopped walking.

Her voice… the sound of it. It was like a black hole. Putrid, consuming, inescapable. It sucked the air out of Catra’s lungs and leached the light from her vision, plunging her into a darkness that devoured everything, both outside of her and in. 

Catra clutched the phone with a white knuckle grip, her own voice coming out shaky and broken.

“Mom?”

“Hello, Catra.”

She tried to remember the last time they’d spoken... It was when Catra left for school. She’d walked out the front door, a backpack slung over one shoulder as her mother slurred drunken insults--that Catra was kidding herself, that she’d never be a success, that she’d never be… anything. 

She told her mother to go fuck herself. That was four years ago.

“H-How did you get this number?” Catra stammered.

“Did you think you could hide from me forever?”

Hide? She wasn’t hiding. She was _running,_ as fast and as far as possible.

Catra’s surroundings were coming back into focus, now, people passing by, just blurry shadows, talking and laughing as if everything was fine. The shock was wearing off. A familiar hatred setting in. She felt it like poison in her gut.

“What the _fuck_ do you want?” Catra hissed.

Nothing but silence; and then her mother answered with a gentle tone, as foreign to Catra’s ears as a different language.

“I wanted to tell you... that I listened to your music.”

Catra stared blankly out at the crowd. The closest her mother had ever come to taking an interest in her music was the time she pawned Catra’s guitar to buy cigarettes.

“I never knew you were so talented.”

She took a deep breath, fighting nausea.

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot you never bothered to know about me.”

“...You’re right.”

She must be hallucinating. Heatstroke, maybe? It made more fucking sense than this phone call.

“Get to the point before I hang up.”

Her mother sighed, hesitating.

“I called because… well, you know I’ve had a lot of time to myself the past couple years. A lot of time to think. Truth is I miss you, Catra.”

With every word, hot anger pulsed inside her like an infected wound.

“I got sober, you know that?” she continued. “I thought maybe I could come see you. I could come to one of your little concerts! What do you say?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Catra laughed, tears burning in her eyes. “You think I don’t know how this goes? You apologize and make promises and as soon as things get bad you go right back to your same old shit. I’m not doing this--I’m not a kid anymore and you can’t manipulate me like you used to--”

“Baby I’m sorry!” she interrupted, and Catra’s tears were flowing freely, now. “I was a fuck up. Okay? I was a shit mom to you and I know that. I can’t take it back. But I want to do better by you. I want to be a part of your life!”

Catra shook her head, feeling like her chest was caving in. She had spent so many years waiting, _praying_ to hear those words. When she had walked out of their house for the last time, she decided she was done waiting. She’d given up any hope of her mother ever changing. If she wouldn’t fix her life for her own daughter, then what could possibly get her to?

Well, apparently, something had. Apparently her mother had been capable of changing all along, she just... never loved Catra enough to do it. 

Now she was faced with an impossible decision. She could either forgive her--betraying every past scar and broken bone in her body--or live forever with the regret of not at least _trying._ She didn’t know if she was ready for that. 

It wasn’t even about whether or not her mother deserved forgiveness… it was about what would finally allow Catra to heal. 

She cleared her throat, voice thick.

“I don’t know. I need time to think. I gotta go, I’ll call you later--”

“Goddammit--Catra wait!” her mother blurted, suddenly sounding a lot more like the woman she’d grown up with, tone laced with venom. “For Christ’s sake, we haven’t talked in years, I just wanted to have a fucking conversation… I need your help, alright?”

All at once Catra’s blood turned to ice. 

“Need help with _what?”_ she deadpanned.

“...I need a loan.”

Yeah. There it was.

“Look, it’s not that much, but if I don’t have this guy’s money by tomorrow then I’m _fucked._ I don’t have anybody else, Catra. Please. I’m still your goddamn mother, aren’t I? Help me get out of this mess and we can be a family again! You can come back home!...”

A smile crept across Catra’s face as her mother’s rambling faded into white noise. She wasn’t surprised. She wasn’t angry. No, the only person she had to blame was herself. For believing, even for a fucking second, that she would ever be anything other than a side character in her mother’s tragedy--a victim of her insanity, her manipulation, her disease.

“Catra? Did you hear me?”

She made her fucking bed. She could die in it for all Catra cared.

“Don’t you fucking hang up on me or I swear to god--”

Catra slowly lowered the phone from her ear and pressed the red _End Call_ button. 

She stared quietly at the screen as the noise of the crowd replaced the sound of her mother’s voice. Her vision started to spin and she was struggling to catch her breath and she vaguely heard people around her asking if she was okay, but nothing really drew her attention outside of herself until she met the gaze of a certain blonde, standing a few feet away.

Of fucking course. 

“Catra!” Adora called.

It was like the ghosts of her past all catching up to her in a single moment. If it was her mother who pulled her to the cliff’s edge, then seeing Adora’s stupid face was what pushed her off it. 

The girl who had always been her home. Her safe place. The one person who promised to always be there for her. The same person who fucking _abandoned_ her to deal with everything alone, who betrayed her like Catra meant _nothing_ to her. And how was Adora any different from her mother?--pretending like she cared, pretending like she loved her when all she had really wanted was someone to admire her then toss aside when she stopped being useful.

Adora was _worse_ than her mother… Because she felt so fucking _real._

Catra stumbled backward, earning shoves from people in the crowd while searching desperately for an escape. 

Fuck this. Fuck everything--it was all just too much.

Catra took off running. She ran until the pavement gave way to sand, where the streetlights couldn’t reach, where the stars were starting to appear in the dark blue sky fading into black behind her. She stopped just before the shoreline and fell to her knees in the wet sand, racked with sobs, letting the rhythmic crash of the ocean wash over her and drown out the voices in her head screaming she was worthless, unloved, unlovable. She tried digging her fingers into the earth, but it just kept crumbling in her hands. 

Maybe this was what she deserved. All this pain… maybe it was just her mistakes coming back to haunt her. Letting her mother treat her the way she did. Letting Adora walk all over her. Confronting them both for the first time in years, it reminded her of the little girl underneath Catra’s armor, forged from years of learning to fight for herself. It was melting away now and exposing who she really was underneath.

Nothing but a helpless, pathetic kid. 

 

_**\- Fourteen Years Ago - September 1995 -** _

 

_Catra woke to the sound of a car door slamming shut outside._

_The living room was dark, aside from the flickers of color coming from a small television set. Rocket Power was playing on mute. She looked across the couch and saw someone curled up in the cushions next to her._

_She smiled to herself. This must be a dream. She couldn’t believe she was hanging out with the coolest girl in class. Then again… Catra didn’t get why, but Adora was always helping her with homework and sticking up for her when other kids picked on her. She’d never had a real friend before. Now she had a_ best _friend. Adora even said they’d be best friends forever--_

_Catra heard the lock on the front door jiggle and someone talking behind it. Her heart jumped into her throat. She sat up and shook Adora by the shoulders._

_“Hey, wake up!”_

_Adora’s eyes cracked open, twinkling in the darkness. She grumbled and swatted at Catra sleepily._

_“C’mon, we gotta hide, or my mom--”_

_The door hit the wall with a loud bang._

_“--Oh no.”_

_The silhouette of Catra’s mother stumbled loudly through the doorway, mumbling to itself._

_“...don’t know what he wants me to do about--” then she raised her voice to shout, “--Jack! We need to talk! Get your ass out here.”_

_Adora finally stirred awake, and Catra put a finger to her lips, a gesture to keep quiet. Maybe her mother wouldn’t notice them, or wouldn’t care--_

_But then she flicked the lights on and her vacant eyes trained right on Catra._

_“Jesus--Catra?” she slurred. “What’re you doing up so late?... Who the hell’s this?”_

_“I’m sorry! We just fell asleep, we didn’t mean to--”_

_“Jack! Where are you? Come get your fucking kid!”_

_She swayed and nearly tripped over the rug. Catra leaped off the couch and grabbed her mother’s hand to steady her, though she was so small it didn’t help much._

_“Mom, Dad’s not here… He left, remember? ” Catra reminded her, tugging her toward her bedroom. “Let’s go to bed, okay?”_

_“What’d you say to me you little shit?”_

_Catra cringed away from her. Her breath reeked of alcohol._

_“Dad’s... not here.”_

_Her mother sneered and yanked her closer, twisting her arm. Catra let out a yelp of pain._

_“And you know why he left? Because of_ you,” _she spat. “He couldn’t put up with an annoying, ungrateful brat in his home anymore--”_

_“Hey! Stop!”_

_They both turned to see a little blonde, blue-eyed girl, her expression fierce and brave, her chest puffed out, tiny hands balled into fists. She reminded Catra of those heroes in the fairytales, the knight in shining armor come to slay the dragon and save the princess. But Catra was no princess._

_“Ms. Weaver, please stop. Catra didn’t do anything!”_

_Catra stared at her in shock, fear striking her. But when she looked back at her mother, all her anger was gone. The glaze in her eyes had cleared up and she seemed even more surprised than Catra felt. Breathing out slowly, she turned back to her daughter and placed a long, bony hand on her cheek._

_“Oh… Oh, baby, I’m sorry…”_

_Catra’s lip trembled, fighting tears. She wanted to be brave, too. Her mother knelt down and pulled her into a hug, and Catra clung to her, shaking._

_“I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”_

_“It’s okay,” Catra choked out._

_Her mother kissed her forehead and pulled back with a tired smile._

_“I love you, Kitten. But you know better than to be up this late. Why don’t you take your friend in your room and let Mom sleep off this tequila...”_

_Catra nodded._

_“That’s a good girl.”_

_After she left, Catra turned back to Adora, feeling shameful._

_“Do you… wanna go home?” Catra mumbled. “I can walk you.”_

_But Adora didn’t look upset, or scared. She walked over to Catra and took her hand._

_“Nah. Did she hurt you?”_

_Catra shook her head. She let Adora pull her back over to the couch, ignoring the sharp stabs of pain in her wrist, and sat down with her._

_“Why’d you do that?” Catra sniffled._

_Adora shrugged. “You look out for me, and I look out for you. Nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other.”_

_“Really? You promise?”_

_Adora smiled, and that made Catra smile, too._

_“I promise.”_

_That was the night Catra came to believe in angels._

 

* * *

 

Catra stared out at the horizon, moonlight carving out every wave in black and white. The memory had left her empty inside. It was almost a mercy. 

She knew what her mother was. She had always known. Lies coming from her were hardly surprising, and deep down she knew it wasn’t the real reason for her breakdown. It just exacerbated a deeper scar. A betrayal from someone she never expected… not in a million years. 

Sitting on the beach, she drew her knees to her chest and let herself get pulled into another, more recent memory.

 

_**\- Seven Years Ago - June 2002 -** _

 

_“This place is a shithole,” Catra said, kicking a beer bottle out of her path. “Can’t we go to your house?”_

_There was garbage everywhere and a thick, musky smell tainting the air, a combination of smoke and alcohol. Dust motes shimmered in the afternoon sunlight that poured in through the living room windows._

_“Trust me, you don’t want to. The first thing my dad said when he got home was--” Adora shifted into a lower, mocking register, “‘--I don’t want to see that dyke on my property ever again and that’s final.’”_

_Catra groaned as Adora pulled her down to sit next to her on the old, torn-up couch._

_“Jesus... We really hit the parental jackpot, huh?”_

_Adora smiled at her a certain way, and it made Catra’s stomach flip._

_“Here. Let me see,” she said, taking Catra’s arm. She used an alcohol wipe to gently clean the dried blood away from a gash on her forearm. It stung like hell. She tried to focus on Adora’s touch instead._

_“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Catra joked, unable to stop herself from wincing._

_“Yeah, okay, tough guy. I’m still gonna bandage it.”_

_She wrapped a strip of gauze around the cut while Catra snuck glances at her, wondering what Adora even saw in someone like her. She admired the fading freckles across her cheeks, the wisps of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, a mark on her jaw from when Catra tried to teach her how to skateboard. It was quiet for a moment, no sound but the barking of a dog outside and the occasional car passing by. Despite the circumstances, Catra felt warm. Safe._

_She noticed Adora’s lips quirk into a frown._

_“Your mom’s a fucking piece of work,” Adora muttered as she finished with the bandage._

_They’d had this conversation before. Adora would try to convince her to move out, call social services,_ something, _and Catra wouldn’t know how to explain that she just… couldn’t. This was her house, this was her family. As fucked up as it was._

_“It was just an accident, Adora,” Catra whispered._

_Rare hatred darkened Adora’s eyes._

_“Sure. This time.”_

_Anger flashed through Catra, too. When was Adora going to stop doing this? Coming to her rescue just to lecture her afterward. She wasn’t her fucking child. She ripped her arm away from Adora’s touch and rose to her feet._

_“You think you have any idea what it’s like for me? Living here? This isn’t your choice, Adora. I’m not afraid of my mom and I don’t need you to be my hero!”_

_Tears blurred Catra’s vision and she was just barely able to stop them from falling. She still wanted to be brave._

_“Catra… I’m sorry,” Adora said, voice cracking._

_Fucking Adora always went straight to her fucking apologies whenever she had nothing else to say. How could she fight with someone when all they ever did was apologize?_

_Catra fell back onto the couch, covering her face with her hands._

_“No… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--”_

_“Hey, I know. It’s okay.”_

_She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to smile weakly at Adora. She couldn’t stand the relentless faith in those blue eyes... Catra was so afraid of not living up to Adora’s expectations of her, she swore it would push her to self-destruct someday._

_Something flashed in Catra’s peripheral vision, then, sunlight glinting off a pill bottle on the coffee table._

_It was her mother’s oxy. There were still several pills left._

_Catra reached out to take it, but Adora grabbed her hand to stop her._

_“Catra--”_

_“I need it, Adora,” Catra breathed._

_“You don’t.”_

_Her eyes stung with fresh tears. The wound on her arm throbbed, painful. The events from the past few hours were catching up with her, all of it crashing down in a heap of anguish and guilt._

_“It hurts...”_

_Adora threaded her fingers with Catra’s and a warmth spread through her chest. She struggled to hold back a sob._

_“You have me,” Adora said. “Just be with me.”_

_And if it wasn’t Adora, if it wasn’t for her touch and her steadiness... if it wasn’t for the still-visible scars on her wrist that reminded Catra of a moment last year, when Catra had comforted her with the exact same words, and Adora had trusted her... Had listened to her..._

_If it was anyone else, Catra would’ve told them to fuck off. But it was Adora._

_“...Okay.”_

_“Okay?” Adora smiled, hopeful and beautiful, and pulled her into a hug and Catra just wanted to melt into her._

_“Hey. We’ll get out of here soon. Go on the road, sell out shows, get an apartment in L.A. where nobody knows us... We’ll be free.”_

_And Catra believed her. She had no reason not to._

 

* * *

 

That was the night Catra started to wonder whether angels truly existed after all, since the world was still so ugly despite them. Los Angeles was supposed to be the City of Angels, so why did she feel like she was trapped in Hell? She should have dropped this competition the second she saw Adora’s name on that stupid band registry. She should have stayed home in Denver--then none of this would have happened. What the fuck had she been thinking? That if she beat Adora now, she could finally prove to herself she was better off without her? That if she could make Adora feel even a _fraction_ of the heartbreak she had caused in Catra, the revenge would satisfy her and let her move on with her life?

Catra looked up at the stars hanging above her, a sprinkling of lights across a vast universe. Maybe all the angels were up there, looking down at her and laughing at her vain attempts to control her fate. Catra could see it now, it was written in the stars. She was doomed to love Adora, for as long as she lived, as long as she was still breathing, and even after. 

She had to believe she could still find happiness without her. People did it all the time, right? It’s not like she was the first person in history to love someone they couldn’t be with.

With the crashing sound of the waves, It took a while for Catra to notice the music behind her had gone quiet. Shit. She should get back to her bandmates. They were probably wondering where she was. Besides, the faster she got the fuck out of here, the sooner she could put this whole experience in the past. She wanted to have hope, but realistically there was no way Black Garnet would be invited back to compete tomorrow. It was over. She was never getting signed with Etheria. And she was never seeing Adora again. She hadn’t expected their last meeting to go the way it did, but she figured it was for the best... Catra had already gotten her revenge and all it really did was make her feel like shit. There was nothing left for her here.

She was about to stand when suddenly a voice called out from behind her. 

“Catra?”

...

Speak of the devil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!! im writing about some intense topics so i always appreciate criticism. let me know what u think. thanks so much for reading <3333


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